All The Sea's Fury
by KieraVenic
Summary: Always Imrahil's father had told him tales of the sea when he was small. The sea was no one's servant to bend to their will or demands, nor some lovely maiden reaching to them with embracing arms. For as bountiful and beautiful as it was so too could it be just as merciless and take everything back. Imrahil had been eight years old when he had first come to understand that lesson.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** Barring the household staff and random townsfolk, the main characters of this story are property of J.R.R Tolkien. I have simply borrowed them for a bit. I would like to say no harm was done, but well… This story is not very kind to them.

What started out as an intent to write a short story to get back into the world of fanfiction has turned into an utter monster. One hundred and one pages of monster. The story is finished, but I am going through some edits for it so it will be posted as they are (hopefully) polished. Enjoy!

I also wish to state this story was inspired by a documentary on the tsunami in the Indian Ocean during December of 2004. You can find it on youtube. It's called Tsunami Caught on Camera.

**Last but not least, I will also say that I was greatly inspired by some of my favorite LOTR fanfiction authors on here including Thundera Tiger, Lamiel, Cassidy, and Siobhan. So though they may never see this I would like to unofficially dedicate this to them.**

Prologue:

Always his father had told him tales of the sea when he was small. The sea was no one's servant to bend to their will or demands, nor some lovely maiden reaching to them with embracing arms.

The sea was its own master and it was more wild and free than any stallion of Rohan. To live with the sea was to learn to respect it. For as bountiful and beautiful as it was and as much as it gave them life so too could it be just as merciless and take everything back.

Imrahil had been eight years old when he had first come to understand that lesson.

"Imrahil! Imrahil slow down!"

Heedless, the dark haired child bolted down the beach with a big bouncing gate that splashed up sea water with every step. Not far behind, Finduilas ran after him, her skirts soaked with sea spray. The heavy weight of them slowed her as she reached out to grasp the child that always kept just out of reach.

The stern tone of her words was bellied by her smile and laughter. "Hey! Get back here!"

"You have to catch me!" The young Prince spun and then tumbled back into the water with a yelp as the retreating wave slipped sand out from beneath his foot. Immediately his sister pounced upon him.

"Ah ha!" Ruthlessly the thirteen year old girl tickled her brother who tried valiantly to scramble away with protests and laughter on his lips. It cut off in a sputter as the sea came rolling back in splashing his face and soaking them both.

With a final shove Imrahil managed to squeeze out from under Finduilas and scramble to safety. Pleased with her brother's disheveled and sandy appearance, she let him go. She could hear the huff of his nursemaid up on the steps down from the palace. Neither child showed any remorse at the fact that she would be the one left to scrub the sand out of Imrahil's clothes, and most likely his hair too.

"Aren't you supposed to be in lessons?" the small boy asked distractedly as he nudged a small ghost crab with a stick of drift wood. He missed the pursing of his sister's lips.

"It matters not. Those lessons are dull. I know how to be a Lady just fine. I do not need Lady Edweith to teach me how best to hold a spoon." Her nose wrinkled in distaste and Imrahil grinned. Heartily he approved of his sister's disobedience. The more often she escaped her maid and tutor the more often they got to run about on the beach.

From crab to sand, Imrahil began sketching lines on the beach. He smiled as the lapping sea water would sweep in and wipe everything clean each time so he could start anew. The shift of sand under his feet brought back memories of the morning.

He looked up at his sister with large eyes. "Did you feel the shaking this morning?"

Carefully balanced steps guided Finduilas along the sea wall made of stone and mortar that was pressed into patterns with shells from the sea. Under the sand calloused soles of her feet she could feel the press of the smooth shells. "No, I felt no shaking. It must have been your imagination." She spun in a sharp motion that twirled her soaked skirts and started back along the wall. "See? I can balance just fine. Why Edweith insists that I must practice walking with a book on my head is beyond me."

Her complaint went unheeded as her brother frowned up at her. "It was not my imagination! I felt it! It rattled my figures and sent one right off the shelf!" His expression crumpled sadly at the memory. "It broke."

It was a shudder that had awoken Imrahil. Blearily the child had sat up in his bed as it shivered under him. "Finduilas? Irviniel? Are you shaking my bed? It's not funny." Still the bed trembled and with a huff Imrahil began to shove off his blankets when the whole room gave a mighty jerk. Startled he gasped and tugged his covers back to him.

All around the room things quivered and shook. His furniture rattled violently and he huddled down nervously. Wide silver-gray eyes watched as little figures of sea creatures made from shell, driftwood, and sea glass shivered and quaked high up on their shelf. Slowly a little seahorse made of seashell painstakingly worn into shape by rubbed sand inched closer and closer to the edge of the shelf and then tumbled off.

With a cry of dismay Imrahil leant forward and crawled across his covers to peer down at the shards of broken shell that rattled on the floor.

A carving of wood fell and then the empty shell of a horseshoe crab. With each he cringed and clutched harder at his covers as he lay on his bed and prayed fervently for the shaking to stop. Then slowly, it did. Shakes ebbed to trembles and then there was a last shiver and jerk before things grew still. It had lasted hardly more than two minutes, but it had felt like an age to the child.

One last look of cautious suspicion around the room and then Imrahil scrambled off the bed to go scoop up the shattered pieces of his most favorite sea figure.

Careful of the shattered pieces, Imrahil crouched down to gather them. He stared at the tiny broke shards in his hands with a childish pout. Careful, he set the delicate shards on a small table just beneath the shelf where the little statues and figures had begun to trickle down onto it as his collection expanded with each of his father's expeditions.

Next he fingered the empty shell of a horseshoe crab before he picked it up and turned it over in his hands, wrinkling his nose at the memory it brought. He had been four when his father had gifted it to him. His nurse maid had fretted at such a hideous thing in a child's room, but her disapproval only managed to make him want it more despite his trepidation of it.

Hesitantly he had taken it from his father who laughed at the small Prince's nervousness. "Do not worry. It is only a shell. That poor creature is no longer here."

So it had joined his tiny collection and when two years later he ran to the sea's edge to greet his father back from a short voyage, he had had no trepidation picking up the horseshoe crab shell that had tumbled out from the nets.

Only, it was not just a shell.

Quite suddenly the thing had come to life, tiny claw like legs scrabbling at the air to get free. With a rather undignified shriek the six year old Prince had flung the shell away back into the water as his father roared with laughter. It was his sisters' snickers that made him flush with embarrassment.

"Oh brave Sir Imrahil! Save me from the vicious sea monsters!" Ivriniel, only fourteen at the time, swooned dramatically.

With a scowl Imrahil sunk into a crouch. He traced patterns in the sand with his finger as he tried to hide the embarrassed flush of his face. Sometimes he hated being the baby in the family.

Ivriniel had found it less funny when she awoke the next morning to Imrahil's shell on her pillow beside her face. In her fury she nearly broke it into pieces before he could scamper in and save it from his shrieking angry sister.

His father had tried to be stern when he had called Imrahil into his study for a lecture, but the Prince of Dol Amroth could not keep a straight face and ended up in laughter as his son eagerly recounted the tale of his sister's fury. Ivriniel had been less than pleased when Imrahil managed to escape the whole ordeal with only a stern shake of a finger and a warning not to repeat the events.

The memory did little to cheer the young Prince as he set the shell aside onto the table beside the drift wood and tried to fit the broken pieces of the seahorse figure back together. A call from his nurse maid Merina that it was time to join the family and break his fast called him away.

At the table he had presented the broken figure to his father and the older man tutted. "A shame too."

"It was my favorite!" The boy lamented.

Weathered fingers traced over the tiny brittle pieces. "Do not lose hope quite yet. It might still be possible to fix it, though it will not be the same."

Imrahil's eyes had grown wide. "Promise?"

Adrahil smiled. "I cannot promise that it will be fixable, but I can promise to try my best."

It was good enough and happily he had squeezed his father and rushed through the morning meal to scamper off to the beach; Finduilas hot on his heels with a shouted promise to watch him. Imrahil knew it was just an excuse for his sister to get out of her lessons, and no doubt Adrahil knew as well, but he indulged his children.

That was how they had ended up on the beach that morning hardly less than a half hour later, Imrahil remembered. He sent another wish to Eru that his father would be able to fix the seahorse as he crept up behind Finduilas.

She had moved further down the sea wall now where the water had risen mostly up the wall with the incoming tide. The splash and rush of the water covered her brother's not so quiet creeping steps.

"Well if it is not your imagination than it is a dream then!" She threw her hands into the air dramatically.

It was in that position that she broke into a frantic pinwheel as Imrahil pushed her and she shrieked as she toppled off the sea wall with a splash into the water. In a second she broke the surface sputtering angrily as Imrahil took off down the beach with a cheeky laugh and smile.

"Imrahil!" She growled and jolted to her feet. "You little imp!" With plunging steps she struggled out of the water and took off down the beach after her brother as Merina tutted behind them and shouted for them to not run so far.

Neither child heard her as they pelted head long up the beach.


	2. Chapter 1 - Akallabêth

The city, where it edged down to the beach, was fast approaching. Ahead the fishermen's docks rose out of the water. Imrahil made for them in a beeline with Finduilas hot on his heels. Despite the heavy water soaked into her dress she was not far behind and was quickly gaining ground with her much longer legs.

It was why when Imrahil suddenly jerked to a stop that she barely kept herself from crashing into him. She skidded on the sand and uselessly sucked in her stomach as she rose on the tips of her toes and half lent over her younger brother.

She gave him a push to his shoulder. "A little warning! What did you stop like that for? I almost landed on you."

Imrahil hardly noticed though. Wide eyed he stared out at the water. "Finduilas?"

The girl sighed. "What?"

"The water's gone."

Confused, she frowned at him and glanced toward the sea. "What are you—"

The docks were bared for all to see. Normally the water came up to only a foot or two beneath their weathered planks, but now the water barely lapped at the bottom of the pylons furthest out to the sea. Indeed, only moments ago the water had edged up to the sea wall that ran along the beach, but now it was meters out.

A tug on Finduilas' sleeve dragged her from her wide stare. "Finduilas? Why is the tide gone?"

She shook her head, wet dark locks splashing water. "I do not know. That is… odd… The tide should be high this morning…"

Finduilas was no sailor, but over the short years of her life, like any citizen of Dol Amroth, she had learned to tell the tides. It was a matter of safety more than livelihood in her case. Still young, Imrahil had only begun to learn the curious shifts of the water subject to the moon's phases. Perplexed by the sudden out sweep of the tide Finduilas hovered hesitantly at the start of the docks.

His sister's sense of caution did not extend to Imrahil and the boy shrugged as he wandered down the beach towards the distant water. If Finduilas wanted to fret and fidget about the tide then let her. Under his feet little crabs and critters burrowed into the sand and he smiled and crouched to poke at the soaking sand before he wandered on.

With a high kick of his feet with each step he flung sand and turned to smile and laugh at the trail of ragged footsteps behind him. It was when he was near the end of the docks, many meters out, that he heard Finduilas calling his name. "Imrahil! Get back here!"

Somewhat petulantly he sighed. Overhead he heard a woman tut. Mid-exploration, he paused. "It's a bad omen. The water should never be out so far. Something must be coming."

A sailor began to usher people off the docks. "Changes like that never bode well. Off, everyone off. Get to the shore. When the sea changes so unpredictably it's best to leave her to her whims. It heralds disaster. Come on! Move off."

The wood overhead thumped as people began to hurry back to the shore. With one last glance at the sea, Imrahil sighed and started back towards Finduilas. On the shore his sister was hurrying towards him with a nervous look about her face. Already the docks had mostly cleared of people as they quickly moved into the open city streets, glancing nervously back towards the water.

It was startling, the force that Finduilas grabbed him with when she reached him at last. He shied from her at the tight grip and glanced at her with big eyes. "Fin, you're hurting me."

"I'm sorry," she said distractedly as she loosened her grip on his arm, but did not slow as she began to pull him back with her toward the city. Under their feet came the cool trickle of water. Startled, Imrahil glanced down at the cold sensation as it washed over his feet.

A smile curved his lips. "Look Fin, the water is back. See?"

But the water did not ebb as a wave and continued to push and push as if to rush them to the shore. In only moments the water that covered the tops of his feet soon crept up his calves and then to his knees and soon he was struggling to follow after Finduilas as it rose over his hips and her thighs.

As quickly as it had come, Imrahil's smile fell. He tugged at his sister's sleeve nervously. "Fin, the water's not going away again. It keeps coming." Their steps became strides as the water pressed against them more and more forcefully until they had to practically run with each step.

Over head the remaining people began to shout urgently, rushing those on the beach to the shore. Finduilas glanced nervously at the sea again. "Come on, hurry."

Imrahil followed her gaze to the ocean. There were no waves in sight, not one, but the water seemed to rush at them urgently.

After that everything happened rather suddenly. Nearly to the start of the docks the water suddenly surged around them and Imrahil gave a cry of alarm as the water rushed up to his chest. He could feel his feet lift off the sand as it tried to pull him up the shore with it. Finduilas gave a startled gasp, the tight bands of her arms wrapped around him.

People on the beach called to them and several ran with startled screams as the water only came faster.

A rather un-Ladylike oath slipped from Finduilas before they were pulled under. It was cold, loud, and dark. Frightened Imrahil clung to his sister as one of her arms left him. Then, suddenly, they were on the surface again, pressed against one of the pylons of the dock that brushed the tops of their heads.

With one arm Finduilas clung to the pylon, the other to her brother. The water rushed around them and Imrahil could feel it tugging hard at his clothing. The stinging kiss of sand scraped along his exposed skin. The force of it was unbelievable. Still the water rose and rushed past in a roar till both had to crane their necks to take frightened gasping breaths. The water foamed and churned dangerously. Once a rich teal it was now brown and murky with grit.

"Finduilas!" Imrahil cried and clung tighter as he felt the water lap at his jaw and keep climbing. In only seconds it was over his face and he managed one last gasp before he could no longer breathe. He pressed his eyes tightly closed against the sting of the salt and his ears could hear nothing but the sea's wrath. Finduilas' arm clung to him painfully tight.

Then they were free falling, or so it felt. Imrahil realized around the panic of being unable to breathe that Finduilas had lost her grip on the pylon and now they were tumbling in the sea. There was a startling jolt as Finduilas must have crashed into something. Something hard struck his leg and Imrahil cried out. His eyes flew wide with fear as he realized his breath was gone. The salt and grit burned them terribly and all he could see was brown dark.

Never had he imagined something as terrifying as the inability to breathe. The cold of the water seemed to sap his strength from him and his lungs ached terribly. He could feel his ribs strain with imagined gasps as his lungs so desperately yearned to take in just one precious breath. It had become nearly unbearable as they tumbled directionless through the brown dark of the water.

A stinging and burning arose across his skin with growing intensity when suddenly they broke the surface. With panicked gasps they gulped air and coughed as water splashed into their mouths and clogged their lungs. Still the pair clutched one another to themselves and Imrahil was startled to realize they were in the streets of the city now. Swept over the sea wall they were rushed by the water through the streets. Around them the water was piled with a growing collection of debris ripped from homes.

They swept past one house and then another and jerked to a stop. With one arm Finduilas clung to the stone pillars of a porch, the wood now abandoned. Her teeth grit in pain as a strangled endless scream trembled at the back of her throat. Desperate, Imrahil reached out and wrapped one arm around the pillar as well, hoping to ease his sister's burden.

Together they gripped the pillar and tried to catch their breath around the water that continually splashed up to fill their mouths. As the water crept higher so did they. Together they awkwardly shuffled up the height of the column to escape the rushing water that sought to drown them.

Around them the outer limits of the city were laid to ruin. Smaller homes down the slope of the beach, even up on their little stilts, were torn away piece by piece in the churn of the water. One house half collapsed under it and shuddered ominously. With each ruined house the swirl of the water became more and more encumbered with growing debris, but it did not stop.

Imrahil had seen it coming, but when the rush of debris hit them and ripped them free back into the tumult of the water again, there was nothing he could do but grab Finduilas and pray.

Repeatedly they broke the surface of the water only to be pulled back under into the tumult. It frightened him how little Finduilas seemed to move and each time he heard her gulp a breath or cry out in fear he gave silent thanks that she was still alive. It was startling how they rushed through the city. The water followed the low roads, sweeping them past small structures mostly made of wood. There was little time to note it though in the furious struggle to stay afloat as they were continually dragged under and tossed around.

Ever so slowly it seemed to him that the rush of the water slowed. At last when they broke the surface for more than half a moment he found that if he kicked his legs as hard as he could they could stay that way, mostly.

Fast approaching, Imrahil spotted a wooden awning that hung low toward the water. He felt a small thrill of fear as he realized just how fast they were coming to it, but he kicked all the harder and furrowed his brows in determined concentration.

Swift, he threw out his arms and grabbed onto the awning even as Finduilas gave a cry of alarm to feel him let go of her. Still, she clung tight to him and he felt his heart jolt as his grip slipped and he was torn away by the weight of her being pulled with the water. In one last effort he grabbed again and clutched to it with all his might as Finduilas clung to him.

His hands cramped horribly as he held for minutes until the force of the water began to fade. His little arms trembled violently as he dragged himself up painfully slow onto the awning, careful of his sister who grabbed onto the awning herself with one hand as he moved.

It shifted under him and he froze, frightened, but after a moment it seemed to hold. With all his strength he grabbed onto his sister's free arm and pulled her onto the awning as she scrabbled at its surface. The strangled scream she gave as she heaved herself onto it frightened him and he held to her tightly until she was entirely onto the awning.

Together the two fell back onto it and lay panting. Loudly Finduilas moaned in pain and rolled to her back with shaking breaths. Her clothes were battered and torn, her skirts ripped to long shreds of cloth and her bodice torn in a manner bordering on indecent, but she seemed not to notice or care. Imrahil was little better himself. Somewhere in the mess his loose leggings had been taken right off, his tunic tattered. In the struggle to stay alive he had never noticed.

Cold, shivering, and terrified he curled up beside Finduilas and pressed against her with a whimper. Tiredly, one of her arms dropped over his shoulder and they lay there watching as the water continued to push through the city streets.

It was an awing and horrible thing to watch. Clutters of debris swept past some with people on top as they clung desperately to anything that would float. A wagon swept by, and then a dead horse, a door and a pile of lumber, a dead body and a live one, and slowly the tumult grew and grew until Imrahil could not make out anything discernible, just a mash of broken wood, rope, and canvas.

A small gasp came from Finduilas as a small fishing boat pulled past them back from the shore, empty of whatever poor soul had been on it when it was hit. They both caught their breath and made sound of fright as it scraped against the awning making it lurch down on one side and groan, but it still stubbornly held.

How long they lay there, Imrahil was not sure. Finduilas' moans had faded to pained whimpers and he dared not move from her side for fear of upsetting their precarious perch and sending them back into the water. Over time the force of the water slowed and dropped. Then, slowly, it began to reverse.

Everything the sea had ripped free was now being pulled back and Imrahil watched as people staggered and stumbled along the long train of water logged debris. They tried desperately to grab onto windows, awnings, and porches to avoid being carried away. A man that tried to stagger through the water to get across the road suddenly lost his footing and went under the waist high water and was gone from sight. He did not rise again. The number of those unmoving in the water nearly matched the count of the living as they swept past and Imrahil shivered hard.

Eventually after what felt like an hour, the water had dropped down and slowed to a trickle that would barely wash over a person's feet.

Then, slowly, voices began to rise out. Cries filled the city as people called desperately for loved ones and searched through the streets. The clatter and bang of boards being thrown aside as people dug through the debris added to the clamor. It seemed almost as if the very city itself wailed with despair and fearful loss. Even the frightened sounds of animals joined the clamor.

After a time Imrahil felt brave enough to move after Finduilas made a particularly distressed sound. He sat up and frowned in worry down at her as she lay with her eyes tightly pressed shut. "Fin?" He laid a hand on her shoulder. "Fin?"

His voice warbled and his eyes grew wide. There was a stain of blood that seemed to grow on her hip. "Fin!?"

"Shh, shh." A pair of stormy gray eyes opened. Weakly she smiled up at him and grasped the small hand on her shoulder. "I'm okay. I'm okay."

"Your hip," Imrahil worried. "It's bleeding."

Finduilas craned her neck with a wince to look at her hip and made a face. "So it is." She tried to move her leg and choked back a cry and thumped her head back on the awning.

"Finduilas!?"

"Shhh," she grit out between her teeth. "It's fine… Just hurts. I can't move my leg."

"Fine!?" he squeaked. "That hardly sounds fine!"

Before Finduilas could try to reassure him a man's voice called up from below them. "Hello? Who is up there?"

With quick shuffles that made the awning shudder, Imrahil crawled to the edge of it. He ignored Finduilas' scowl as she clutched nervously at the wooden shingles beneath her when they shook with his weight. The Prince poked his head over the edge and before he could even announce himself the man gasped.

"Prince Imrahil!"

Meekly, the young noble nodded. "My sister, P-Princess Finduilas is up here as well. She's hurt." He managed to put on his best brave voice, even if it did perhaps wobble with a hint of uncertainty.

The man ushered a woman over. She saw the wet and ragged child and made a sound of distress. "Oh poor thing! How did you manage to get up there?"

The man shook his head. "The waters no doubt. It does not matter. The Princess Finduilas is trapped up there and she is hurt. Are you able to take a message to the castle? I'm sure they already know we need aid, but the Prince and the Princess…" He glanced nervously at the pair perched on the precarious awning.

"Prince!?" The woman did a double take and quickly curtsied. Imrahil wrinkled his nose in bemusement at her when she was not looking. When she straightened though, the woman nodded with a more serious expression. "Yes. My family is safer inland, but I had just come to the market this morning. I'll hurry to the palace and inform Prince Adrahil." Swiftly she gathered up her skirts and hurried off down the street, her progress slowed as she had to climb over the ruin of the city.

The man looked up at Imrahil again with an unsure face. "Now as to how to get the pair of you down… How badly is the Princess hurt?"

"My hip," Finduilas panted softly. "I think it may be broken. I cannot move my leg."

With worried looks Imrahil continuously glanced between his sister and the man beneath him. "She thinks her hip is broken. She can't get down on her own."

"A litter," a second man suggested as he approached and heaved a piece of debris away. "She cannot walk and to ride a horse, if we could even find one, would hurt her."

"Agreed. Look and see if we cannot find any sail canvas with which to make one. Hurry." Together the pair quickly rushed away, gathering up a third man to help them.

"But what about me?" Imrahil called after them. "What should I do?"

"Watch her!" the first called back. "Keep her comfortable until we return."

As to how he would do that stuck up on the awning, Imrahil had no idea. Awkwardly he shuffled back around on his knees and worried his lip between his teeth. There was an awful lot of blood, but he knew touching broken bones was painful. Did not a person stop bleeding by pressure? But that would only hurt her more. A low keen of frustration sounded in his throat making Finduilas glance up at him.

"Are you okay?"

Imrahil glanced down at his disheveled appearance and took in the numerous cuts and scrapes on his skin. The burning came back to him then and his face crinkled against the sensation as if his skin had been scraped raw with sand. Chances were it had been, he realized as he fingered the reddened and scratched skin. A few cuts burned with more vigor, but in light of his sister's grave injury, they seemed small and insignificant.

"I'm okay," he murmured. He scooted closer to her till his thigh was against her arm. "You're hurt though…"

Finduilas sighed. "Yes. I am, but they're going to get father and something to carry me home. The healers will see me and in a few weeks I'll be brand new again."

"Promise?"

"Promise." If her voice quivered a little, Imrahil said nothing of it.

A tentative smile quavered on Imrahil's face as he reached out and grasped Finduilas' hand and gave it a squeeze. "Alright."

They sat in quiet pondering silence for a few moments. Periodically they would hear screams or wails that made them shiver or people would call up to them to see if they were okay. Always Imrahil would edge to the side and peek down to tell them of his sister and the litter being made.

"Don't you worry young Prince. We will have your sister down and to a healer in no time," one lady assured him with a hearty pat to his outstretched hand.

Thrice the boy had to refuse offers to be helped down.

"But my Prince, it's not safe up there!"

"No."

"But—"

"No! I'm not leaving Fin."

"Imrahil…" He heard his sister's warning tone behind him and a nudge to his hip that scooted him closer to the edge before he scrambled back.

Vehemently he shook his head. "No!" In light of his stubbornness, eventually his sister caved with a sigh.

Down the road as far as Imrahil could see was destruction. Closer to the shore, just behind the sea wall he could see several flat squares of tattered planks. Something about it made his stomach drop. "Fin? …Fin?"

"What?"

"What are those by the shore?"

There was a pause before she carefully began to work herself up onto her elbows, hissing and moaning most of the way in pain.

A sense of guilt pulled at Imrahil as he tried to push her back down. "Oh don't! I'm sorry! Don't hurt yourself again."

However Finduilas, as strong willed as ever, batted his hands away. "Oh leave off. I will be fine." Her gray eyes scanned the shore quickly and lingered on the shapes that Imrahil had seen. At the sight of them her face twisted into a pained grimace and she shut her eyes for a moment. It startled Imrahil to realize she was uttering a prayer.

"Fin?"

"They're houses. Were. They were houses."

"Oh…" The word came out more as a stunned breath. Slower now, Imrahil turned back to look at them. Whatever there had been of those houses was completely gone now. He could make out stone steps up to the first floor and a hint of the foundation, or in some cases merely the wooden pillars the house had been perched on, but anything above the stone or broken wood was utterly gone. Along the edge of the house he could periodically see where a thick support beam had been jaggedly snapped and ripped free by the force of the water. He shivered and scooted closer to his sister.

"It is like the tale of Numenor…" Finduilas whispered.

Befuddled, Imrahil scrunched his nose and looked up at Finduilas in confusion. "Numenor? Our ancestors?"

The older girl rolled her eyes in a rather undignified manner that no doubt would have had Edweith in a fit. "Do you ever listen to your history lessons Imra?"

The question drew a flush from the boy who hunched down. "I hate it when you call me that. It makes me sound like a girl."

"_Imraaaa._" Finduilas said again in a sing song voice, her lips parted in a smile.

With a huff Imrahil grossed his arms, but he could not begrudge his pained sister her fun and instead grumbled. "I do pay attention to my history lessons… Mostly."

She laughed, "Mostly?"

Further embarrassed he rubbed at one reddened cheek and darted his glance away to the sea. "Sometimes… I hear the ocean and I get distracted. I get the urge to just go outside. Sometimes it sounds like it's calling me." He ducked his head and quickly blurted, "I know it sounds stupid, but it's almost like I can hear a voice on the sea."

There was a thoughtful hum from the girl and when she spoke her voice was saddened. "No. It is not stupid. It is a part of our heritage. The sea calls to us through what hint of Elven blood we have. It is not a strong lure or beckon like they hear, or so it is rumored, but that same call echoes in our hearts too. It is why so many of our people cannot bear to be parted from the sea."

"Oh." The word whispered out. He had heard that if an Elf went to the sea they never came back again. He shivered hard. Was it because of this? Did the sea snatch them up and take them away? Tightly he wrapped his arms around himself. He had always loved the sea, the gentle pull of the waves, the tug and whip of one's hair in the breeze, and even that permeating salty smell that clung to you.

But this… This was horrifying. Like years of the sea's fury was pent up till it could no longer be contained and shattered forth from its confines to sweep the earth of everything living.

Almost on the whisper of the breeze he could hear his father's voice again. "_Remember Imrahil, to live with the sea was to learn to respect it. As bountiful and beautiful as it is and as much as it gave us life so to could it be just as merciless and take everything back."_

His eyes trailed along the white line that spanned the horizon. He could recall the shudder and quake of his room this morning. Well he was not sure what the sea was so angry about and what it wanted back, but if it was the little shells, glass, and wood of his statues he would happily give them back to the water if it just left his sister alone.

The horizon seemed to edge closer and Imrahil frowned. He did not recall the horizon being white before.

"Fin?"

"Hmm?"

With slow careful movements Imrahil got to his feet to squint out to the sea. "There is a big white line along the ocean. It's… It goes from one side of the bay all the way to the other."

There was a bemused silence from the girl before she asked, "What? Is that another one of your silly riddles?"

"No. It's getting bigger."

Behind him came the rustle of cloth and he turned to see Finduilas looking towards the sea worriedly as she tried to sit up again. Half way there she let out a loud cry of pain and Imrahil quickly pressed her down again. "Stop! You're going to get hurt more!"

The red stain on her dress drew his eye again and he bit at his lip. Was it bigger? It looked bigger to him. What if she bled too much before father got to them? Frustrated he squinted up the debris cluttered street toward the curve that took the road out of sight toward the palace. What was taking them so long?

There was a panicked gasp from Finduilas that brought his eyes to her face. His stomach dropped when he noted her eyes were locked on the sea. Slowly he turned as she breathed out, "Mar-nu-Falmar."

He frowned and chanced a darted glance to her. The words tickled at him as if he should know them, but they brought nothing to mind. When he looked again to the sea, his breath left him.

He could see it now for what it was. It was no trick of the eyes or the sun on the water. From side to side across the narrowed length of the bay a great wave stretched. It was far higher than any wave the small child had seen in his life.

All down the road towards the beach he could hear screams begin to rise as others too began to catch on and realize just what was coming for them. People swept up children, whether they were their own or not, and ran. They shouted to those who lingered curiously at the beach or out of ignorance to flee. Some listened, others did not.

He watched in horror as a large fishing boat far out in the distance was utterly swallowed by the water without any hint that the wave had been hindered in even the slightest.

One of the two men from earlier and a woman ran up to the awning then. "Prince! Princess! You must come down! The sea is coming back! Hurry!"

Finduilas pushed Imrahil towards the edge of the awning and he rapidly shook his head. "No!"

"Go!" She shouted and shoved him again despite the pain the effort brought her.

Large hands reached up to grab him, to help him down to the ground, but Imrahil hit at them and wiggled free. "No! My sister can't go! She's hurt! I'm not leaving her!"

There was a series of swears from the man that made the woman tsk.

"Help me!" the man shouted. "If we can climb up there we can get them both down. There's little time!"

There was a great clatter as the two of them began to pile up wood and debris along the side of the building to climb. The man climbed up first, but when he tried to put his weight on the awning it shuddered and groaned, one side jerking down dangerously. The two children made cries of panic and he backed off.

"It can't hold our weight!" He swore another oath.

"Well get the Prince off and try to pull the Princess to the edge! We can get her off from there!"

Finduilas did not take her eyes from the sea. As they spoke her eyes were growing wider, her breath panicked. "It's here… It's here. Akallabêth…"

The man several times tried to urge the Prince to them and grasped the Princess' arm to pull Finduilas to the edge, but she screamed out as her hip was jarred and Imrahil beat the hands of the woman that grabbed him away. "I won't leave her!"

There was panicked conversation between the two that Imrahil missed, lost among the sounds of terror and the growing roar as the water grew closer. The man struggled briefly to pull a scrap of canvas free, but it remained tightly lodged within the heap of broken wood. He approached them once more, frantically discussing something with the woman. After only moment Imrahil saw that the man had grabbed the woman and was hurriedly dragging her up the street from the swift approaching wave. A panicked sob left him at the sight of it. He knew it was foolish. He could not ask them to stay with the wave coming, but to be left alone still was frightening.

Finduilas pushed at him now, frantically. "Go! You stupid idiot! Go!"

He shook his head, tears trickling freely now as he saw the water rush up to the docks. There was never a chance for them. The water was at least a good three meters over them as it crashed into them and ripped them asunder. "I'm not leaving you alone!"

His sister was crying now too as she shoved him hard. "Go! Climb at least! Get in the window!"

Even as he shook his head Imrahil edged as high up on the awning as he could go. Desperately, Finduilas tried to climb after him, dragging herself inch by painful inch up the wooden shingles. He could hear her little gasps and strangled cries of pain as she jarred her hip repeatedly.

Small hands grasped at the remains of her dress and her battered arm and pulled her after him, but they were soon against the wall with nowhere to go. The window was out of the question. Though Finduilas had suggested it, they both knew there was no way. It was far out of reach of the awning for even her longer arms to grasp.

The wave roared over the sea wall.

Frantic Imrahil pawed at the wall for hand grasps. The roof was not so far away… Maybe they could—

There was a tearing shriek as the water hit the first of the houses that still remained. That used to remain.

His breath came out in panicked bursts that felt as if they drew nothing in.

Up. They had to get up. To the roof. Get higher than the water.

He was not sure at which second he had stopped trying, but Finduilas was pressed against him and he clung tightly to her, his face pressed into her neck as the pair sobbed in fear. The sound of it was utterly swallowed by the roar of the sea.

Then the cold and pain hit them.

The awning was gone. He felt it ripped out from under them in seconds. Distantly he wondered if that was the heavy thing that had crashed into them and ripped them apart as it stole his breath from him.

Finduilas was gone, but he was not sure where. With his eyes squeezed shut tight he reached blindly out into the water to find her, but everything was moving too fast and now his lungs burned with a lack of air. Hard he kicked and swung his arms trying to reach for the surface. For half a moment he broke it, tore half a breath and then was under again tumbling head over foot.

His arm was caught and tangled in a crush of debris and what little air he had stolen left when he felt it break. The cry he gave was lost to the water.

It burned. It burned so horribly, but he couldn't breathe. His chest heaved against the urge to suck in air that was not there. The second he felt his arm freed from the mess of crushing objects, he pressed it to his chest no matter how much it hurt. The pain was lost to the growing fear.

Still he kicked and clawed at the water, but he felt his limbs weaken and hope had begun to flee.

Darkness and cold. The pain, so much burning and stinging and—Air! Sweet merciful air!

Hungrily he gulped at it as he was swept along. A tangled mess of wood, rope, canvas, and who knew what else was not far from him. With his good arm he grasped at it and clung to it until his lungs no longer burned so badly. He crawled half onto it, sobbing out as his arm was jarred against jagged wood.

Wide silver eyes darted around, scanning the surface of the turbulent water.

"Fin!? FIN!?"

He strained his ears, but heard not a single sound to hint of her. Desperately he crawled up onto the shifting mass. "It's okay. It's okay. She's here. I know she's here. Fin is fine… Fin is—" He choked on the self-assuring words and let out a quiet cry. He could not find her!

"FIN!" he screamed out as loud as he could, but even to him the sound seemed muted and lost to the crash and roar of the water and the rips, shrieks, and bangs as the water tore through everything in it's path. He watched in fear as close to the beach whole houses broke under the force of it and were swept away.

So he lay there panting, eyes half closed and dazed as exhaustion took him. He had chanced a look at his arm, but felt ill at the sight of it and quickly looked away. It was battered and bloodied and he was pretty sure at one point he saw a hint of the bone breaking through. His legs felt no better, though at least those he could move. Even his belly and face felt burned and raw.

The buildings and pieces of debris seemed to rush past too swift and left him feeling dizzy and sick in addition to the bob and spin of the clutter he clung to. The second time he saw a dead body sweep past he squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed against the bile. Fear tore at him. What if he saw Finduilas sweep past next?

"No. No nononononono." He repeated the word over and over to himself to his breath was a hoarse whisper and then lost to nothing.


	3. Chapter 2 - Swept Away

**A/N: **I really should have been working more on my original writing today but uh… This happened instead. Oh well. At least I did something, right? And on a side note, hope everyone in the US had a lovely holiday. For the rest of you hope it was a good day. =)

* * *

To Imrahil, it had felt like only minutes that he had had his eyes closed, but he must have blacked out at some point. When he flicked them open again, tiredly, they had quickly flown wide in shock. Dol Amroth was away, far away.

He pressed his arms under him to sit up and screamed at the pain it brought. Tightly he curled around his broken arm and hissed breathes through his clenched teeth. He had utterly forgotten about it.

Fear forced his eyes open again as he looked out to the city. He was in the ocean now. He must have been meters and meters upon meters from the shore his young mind wondered in fearful awe. He could make out hints of the snapped pylons where the docks used to be. They were only small dots to his eyes.

It came to him then that the water had swept far out again.

_It's going to go back again… Another wave!_

Part of him wanted it, desperately wanted it. If the sea swept in again he had a chance to grab onto something, to get on top of another awning or a roof until the waves stopped. He could then find Finduilas and go home!

_Finduilas!_

Frantic at the sudden thought of his sister he surged to his feet, biting his lip hard against the pain. He rose and spun so fast that he staggered and toppled back on his behind. A cry escaped his lips as the shards of broken wood jabbed and cut at his skin. He tugged at the wet tatters of his tunic. At the very least he still had that and his short braies.

Slower this time, he climbed to his feet again and looked about him. A whole trail of debris stretched between him and the city and seemed to dwindle away into the distance of the sea out of sight. It made his knees shake. Was he going to be swept out that far too? How would he get home?

_Boats_, he reminded himself._ Our people are known for our ship craft. They can find me with a ship!_

He tried to ignore the fact that he saw nothing but broken ship hulls along the shore for as far as he could see.

Long did he search for Finduilas, though each time he called her name his voice grew weaker until he began to hope that he did not hear her or see her at all. This far out who knew if she was still al—

"No. She's fine. She's safe. I bet she's in the city right now with father and they'll take her home and make her better." But the warble of his voice as he despondently sank down onto his makeshift 'raft' said that he did not even believe himself.

He sat there curled up with his broken arm draped across his lap until Dol Amroth began to dwindle out of his sight. At one point they seemed to almost drift closer, to hover with expectant anticipation and he braced himself for the wave to carry him back, to perhaps sweep him under again, but nothing came. From a far distance he watched as the city was flooded for a third time, but it grew no closer.

In frustration he cried out a haggard scream as he realized he was slowly beginning to drift away again. "NO! Go back! Take me back! _Please_!" But if Ulmo had heard him the Valar did not answer.

He sat until his hips hurt too much and slowly slumped to the side, wincing as his head hit on the wood. The sun was hot and he could feel the telltale hint of tightening on his skin that meant it was beginning to burn. He reached down into the water and scooped handfuls of the cold liquid onto his skin to soothe the sensation. Then, slowly, he began to wash away the blood on him.

It burned horribly. Several times he stopped to hiss in rapid breaths as he rocked through it, but he determinedly cleaned his legs and battered arms. The cuts in his legs were many, though most appeared to be small shallow things or simple scrapes. There were two that were deep and frightened him and he tried not to look at them as blood ever so slowly began to creep from them again.

It was the break in his arm that really made his stomach twist. It was battered and bruised badly, and out of the side of his right arm he could see a hint of bone. Early he had made the mistake of trying to touch it. After his scream had cut off he made a note never to do that again.

Inspection done, he was left with little else to do but drift. Only the palace was really visible to him now, standing up stark and pale against the blue of the clear sky. Fervently he wished to see his father on a ship at any time, but there was nothing.

So he lay in the sun and cried until he was too exhausted for even that. The sight of sea gulls swooping over the debris did something to lift his heart, but not much. If they were here at least he could not be _that_ far out, could he?

Imrahil lay there until noon had come and gone and still he stared despondently after Dol Amroth even long after it left his sight.

A couple hours out was when the smell had begun. It had started as a little thing that he could occasionally catch on the strong breeze, but as the sun began to sink down and his skin was pulling taunt with the start of a burn it became a steady thing. Every breath now came with a hint of something disgusting.

Sullenly he attributed it to another thing about the sea he was starting to hate and fear as home was no longer in sight. Only when twilight fell and the smell was starting to get too much did he finally roll to his knees and begin to poke about the pile. It troubled him to note that it seemed smaller than he could recall. Alarm sped his heart as he noticed the trail of debris he had been in had begun to fan out into a mass that had slowly drifted apart as they move further and further out into the bay towards the heart of the sea.

Each piece of broken wood he picked up he simply set in another place as to not diminish his small island of safety. With some effort Imrahil managed to untangle a decent length of rope that he carefully coiled as he had seen sailors on the docks do many times. Perhaps he could tie some of the wood together and paddle home. He nodded with childish exuberance; if he found enough rope anyway.

The smell had grown as he dug and the stars began to pop out. He gagged and wrinkled his nose at it. He pulled up one wide board with a grunting heave of his good arm and promptly paled.

A bloody tattered arm stuck out from the debris and he could see hints of the rest of the pale bulging body through gaps in the mess of planks, boards, poles, and other things. He dropped the board with a startled cry and scrambled back till his foot went through the thin edge of the mass and splashed into the water.

There was a body. There was a dead body stuck in the debris with him. The smell hit Imrahil again and he turned and vomited nothing but bile into the water. He heaved until there was nothing left and still his stomach cramped and roiled with each breath. He gagged and tears streamed down his face as the world grew darker.

"I want to go home," he sobbed.

For a while he fitfully twisted between the water and the board close to the center of the mass torn between lying close to the water or the body. Words of warning from his father of dangerous animals echoed in the back of his mind while the horrible growing smell of rot and decay swayed him the other way. At last he settled himself between the pair evenly and kept his good hand pressed over his nose and mouth for what little good it did him.

The gulls had left him now as the sky and sea grew black. The near full moon had begun to creep over head and drew a silver streak across the ocean. As a child it had delighted him watching the moon and stars dance on the water from high up the sea cliffs on a castle balcony, but now it only filled him with melancholy. He was alone out here with nothing but a corpse for company.

Growls emanated from his empty stomach and he curled his knees closer to himself as he shivered. His clothes had dried in the sun, but his tunic and braies did near nothing now to save him from the cold of the night sea. It seemed too extreme a change from the beating heat of the sun that had burned his skin and while it had felt good on his heated skin at first, now the shivers that made him tremble only served to jar his sore skin, cuts, and broken arm.

The pile jostled under him, but he ignored it. Instead he settled his eyes to the stars and searched for the Mariner, Eärendil. As a child he had always loved the stories of human and elven heroes alike and now he clung to the ancient stories of the Valar and the elves for hope.

"Please… Lead someone to me… Lead me home. Please please please," he begged to the bright point of light until sleep finally claimed him.

A sudden jolt was what woke him shortly after dawn. Blearily his eyes fluttered open and he squint against the light. He had had a strange dream the other day about the sea and a great wave and—Did he not wake yesterday to a sudden jolt that shook his room?

His eyes flew wide fearing that the events would repeat. He had to warn Finduilas! Only, when he opened his eyes, he was met with nothing but water. Water, water, and water for as far as the eye could see. Imrahil's heart fell.

"It's not a dream…" His voice fell in quiet sorrow.

Another jolt rocked the ramshackle pile that he dared to think of as a raft. He scowled at the wood under hand. "Oh stop it. It's bad enough without you shaking." Childishly he thumped his fist on a board and the whole pile trembled. He heard a clatter of boards as they shifted and he quickly jerked his hand back with wide eyes.

"Oh! No, stop! I didn't mean to hit you that hard!" He grasped at the boards under him with his one hand and hoped to death that they would stay still. A sigh of relief left him when they stayed immobile.

At least until the smell hit him. Immediately he gagged and heaved, but nothing came out. The pain of the cramps made him moan. Imrahil shivered in fear as he recalled the body he had found, the bloodied broken mess of an arm that hinted to worse under the broken wood. Judging by the horrendous increase in the stench he could only imagine how much worse it would be now.

Determinedly, he kept his back to where the body was.

With sudden violence the clutter under him shifted and he gave a sound of alarm as he fell to the side. A part of the pile broke away and he reached toward it. "No! Wait!"

If the raft fell apart now then there was no way he would ever get back. He scrambled to the edge and leaned out to try and grab at it when the water between he and it rippled. Slow with dread he glanced down and sucked in his breath as the pale shape that darted through the water. A break in the surface only a few feet away revealed the flash of a fin. There was more than one.

With a yelp he scrambled back away toward the center of the mass, no longer caring how close to the body he was.

Every child in Dol Amroth knew about sharks. Every parent with any sense warned their children of all the dangers of the sea. Not just the waves, tides, and currents, but the animals too. Jellyfish, sharks, stingrays, and even trips to shallow tide pools came with lectures about sea urchins and small blue ring octopi. His father had slapped him on the seat of his leggings something awful the first time he went to poke a dead jellyfish washed up on the beach.

"If ever you are bleeding, _never_ go into the water," his father had told him. "The blood will attract sharks and if you ever feel something bump you beneath the water, get out immediately."

The wood under him shuddered violently. Well, certainly something had come bumping now and with his legs and arm with open wounds… His body mimicked the jarring shiver of the wood. Periodically the tip of a fin would barely break the surface or the water would splash violently as a shark was startled by something beneath the waves. Each sound and sight had him clenching in tight on himself until he was a quivering ball as piece by piece the drifting pile of battered and broken wood began to break apart.

One shark snagged a bit of canvas mistaking it for something edible. The fabric jerked, pulled and tugged away debris with it. Fairly soon though, the animal realized the fabric was nothing worthwhile and let it drift away, but not until after it had already broken up more of the poor pathetic 'raft'.

It was not long later he noticed the blood. The water that surrounded them as they bobbed in the sea had started to grow dark with it. Tightly, Imrahil swallowed against the twinge in his throat that wanted to send him retching again, but there was nothing in him to force out any longer. The sheer desperation of his thirst was torment. Each splash of water drove home to him how badly he wished he could just gulp down one beautiful mouthful of water.

Even if he dared to stick his hand in the shark filled water he knew better. It was another lesson of his father's and one painfully learned by many sailors; to drink water from the sea only made a man thirstier and would drive one to delirium. Already though, he felt plenty delirious with the heat of the sun that burned him even through his light tunic and made his scalp ache. Then there was the hunger and thirst that gnawed at him on top of the fear that pounded his heart with each tear at the dead body by the sharks.

Only when the wood under him shifted did Imrahil uncurl, and just in time as well. Down the pile a divide had begun to form as each bite and tear of the sharks began to pull the body loose. Imrahil scrambled back and tumbled when the plank he had stepped on slipped out from under foot. He rolled near to the edge and scrambled to stop himself, only just aware of the bolts of agony brought with the bump of his arm.

With a yelp of alarm as a shark passed close to the edge, he scrambled up as the wood shifted and settled while the debris raft split into two pieces. He realized with growing alarm that he could now see the half torn and devoured body hanging out from the debris and he was stuck with it.

"No no no!" He pressed to his feet and ran to the edge, gagging at the sight and the smell of the half devoured body until it brought tears to his eyes, as the other half of the raft started to float away from him. If he wanted to get away from the sharks, then he would have to get to the other piece, but how could he without falling in the water? The halves moved apart, two feet, then three and further to four.

Panicked he spun in a circle. A bump from one of the sharks as it darted past to snap at the body jarred them and forced them further. He would have to jump.

"Jump. Have to jump. Just… It's not far. You can do it. You can…" He tried to ignore the doomed tone that pervaded his voice.

He backed away from the edge with the body and trembled for a moment and then, in almost mindless panic, Imrahil bolted forward. He sprung from one half to the other with a strangled shout and crashed down with a pained yelp. The shards of wood cut into him and left splinters in their wake, but he had made it!

He stood with a wordless cry of surprise and euphoria which turned into a startled yelp as his foot fell through a hole in the pile and splashed into the water. Frantic, he jerked his foot up and made a strangled sound of panic when he found it stuck.

"No. No no no!" Again and again he pulled his leg until he felt his ankle cut and bloodied, but to no avail. It remained firmly lodged in the wood that had settled down around his ankle, digging in with sharp splintered bits of wood.

The cold sea water stung and burned the cuts. There was a flurry of movement in the cold water as it swished and swirled about his foot. Then something heavy bumped against his skin, dragging in a rough scrape. His heart leapt into his throat and he froze for half a moment, terrified to even move before his frantic efforts began anew.

Over and again he jerked and tugged, the sharp wood tearing into the tender skin of his ankle, drawing blood in his frantic efforts. "Please, please please," he begged.

Another bump, this one harder and he felt himself tremble terribly. The hands that tugged at the wood to tear himself free shook so badly he could hardly grip anything at all as he expected any moment for one of the sharks to bite down on his foot. He ignored the splinters that bit into his fingers until at last, a bit of wood snapped away and he at last tore his foot free and fell back with a cry.

Free at last he scrambled the few tiny feet away from the hole that he could. He risked a glance at his ankle and let out a sound of distress at the torn open skin he saw there. Blood trickled down the curve of his foot and he tore his eyes away from the sight of it with a shudder.

Still, Imrahil felt hope dwindle as the sharks seemed to divide between both him and the other half. Anger took hold of him then and he grabbed a broken bit of wood and hit at one shape that lazily swam past. "Go away!" The shark jerked, startled, and bolted away into the water at the sudden sharp jab. Again, Imrahil swung the plank and hit at another. "Leave me alone!"

Even then, he still felt the gentle nudges as they cautiously prodded the mass of wood for food and he threw the wood down in disgust and despair. Utterly out of hope he lay down and watched despondently as he drifted further and further from the other remaining half. The only glimmer he was given was when at last the sharks left him realizing any hope of a meal was back the other way.

No matter which way Imrahil turned he could see no land now. Whether he was still in the bay or out to the open sea, he did not know. Not even the gulls came this time, though he thought if he listened hard enough he could hear them calling.

The trial of debris he had been a part of the last day had dwindled down to a few ragged shapes or lone floating planks. He realized in frustration then that he had left his coil of rope on the other half of the mass. A quick glance over what he was left with showed no signs of more and he dared not pick at what was left for fear of tearing apart his last chance of safety.

There was nothing to do now, he realized, but wait. The rumble of his stomach had brought to him the idea to perhaps scoot to the edge and see if he could snatch a fish, but fear of the sharks crippled that idea. Besides, what would he be able to do with only a single arm, he reminded himself.

Delirium came quick with the noon sun beating over head. He lay on his side panting against the heat and repeatedly licking his lips against the thirst, but even his tongue provided no respite. A few times Imrahil almost thought he heard the sound of his father or sisters.

Hope sprung to life and he bolted up right only to find nothing. He was alone. Each time he would give a choked sound and ease himself back down, content to stare at the horizon in hopes of seeing land. Once a white plume made his heart flutter.

_Sails!_ But it proved only to be a cloud and he let out a quiet sob.

After that he had refused to allow himself such hope. Every hint of white or brown along the horizon was met with an empty stare and he no longer blinked when he thought he heard the cry of a person.

It was so horribly hot and his head pounded. When the sun had begun to set for a second time he was almost crying with joy. No more horrible heat. Already his skin was taut and a glance at his legs made him sick. The skin and flesh around his cuts had begun to pull back, taut with burns and dehydration. He could see it ragged and red around the edges as infection set in; hints of white where puss had begun to form. Firmly he kept his eyes from his arm that pulsed in pain with each beat of his heart.

But with the dark sleep would not come. Every little jostle from the water had him twitch in fear of the sharks return and as the cold came in he found himself too weakened to barely even shiver. He kept his eyes to the stars and moved his lips to prayers he could no longer voice until eventually even his lips stilled.

Slowly his eyes traced the stars and recalled the animals and people they were meant to make. He could recall the story his father had told him of Elbereth the Star Kindler that had been passed down their line from their elven ancestors. Delirious, Imrahil smiled and reached up, one finger tracing invisible lines amongst the patterns of the stars. He barely noticed the way his arm trembled.

One constellation and then two, three, four, and five. He even traced new ones for fun. If that one looked like a fish well then who was there around to tell him he was wrong? He was a Prince after all. If he wished to name a new constellation then he would.

He traced his father's face in the stars and Irviniel and Finduilas holding hands. Even his mother whom he had never known outside of portraits painted from before he was born.

In time, his arm grew too tired and so he traced only with his eyes. At last, he blinked and his lashes fluttered weakly once before this time they stayed closed as exhaustion finally won out.


	4. Chapter 3 - A Ship

**A/N: Just a warning for those of you who are squeamish, this chapter deals with a lot of injuries. =) Heads up!**

* * *

The wood was moving again. Badly. Water splashed on his face. Thirstily he licked his lips. One droplet and another, he realized it was raining.

Iramhil's eyelashes fluttered. His expression wrinkled at the salt that crusted his lashes and made it difficult to see. With his good hand he scrubbed at his face before he pushed to his knees. He was greeted by dark low clouds and a rolling sea. The sea was loud now with the splash of water and the growing groan of the wind. A rumble of thunder echoed overhead and he cowered down.

Never had he liked storms, especially not the way they made the sea rage and now he was in the middle of it. On the docks he had heard horror stories the sailors would tell of waves ten meters high that would swallow ships whole. They would always embellish it and act it out with great sweeps of their hands or using buckets of water. He would watch wide eyed with gasps as tiny boats made from twine, wood splinters, and paper would be swamped asunder by splashes of water from a weather hand. A firm hand on his shoulder from his father would lead him away as the Lord Prince shook his head. "Don't listen to them. The sea is very dangerous during a storm, but the waves are not _that_ high."

Imrahil never liked the invisible quotes his father seemed to put on that one word.

But really, he reflected with childish sarcasm, had he not already faced off a ten meter wave only two days ago? He had survived that, barely, so why not this?

Imrahil tried to ignore the part of him that said last time he had not been on a pile of broken wood in the middle of the sea. Somehow he could not seem to get that out of his head. Indeed he noted with dismay that each roll of the sea seemed higher and higher to him and his little pile of scraps seemed to have gotten smaller sometime in the night.

Trickles of water splash on his face and he found he could care less about the sea or the raft. He had water. He threw back his head, tossing tangled brunette locks about his shoulders as he opened his mouth wide. Measly little drops fell in periodically, but each one was a sweet blessing. He stuck out his tongue and strained for each droplet he could get. Soon he had stuck out even the cup of his hand hoping for more and paused to lick up the small collection of droplets when he could. It was not much, but it felt wonderful.

Imrahil kept going until his jaw was sore and then some. It ached and throbbed as he stretched muscle and skin to their limits trying to get all the water he could. He wished terribly for a bucket, but he knew it was foolish to think like that. For now his hand would do.

A dark shape along the horizon made his eyes stray from the patterns he studied in the wood, but he scoffed. It was just another cloud, why did he bother. Only… If it was storming and the sky was covered from end to end then…

His head jerked up and he squinted against the growing lash of rain.

A ship. It was a ship.

Imrahil was on his feet so swiftly that the world spun and he toppled again, cutting his hand and knees further, but he paid it no mind before he was up again. He wobbled as everything swayed under his feet with the undulating water, but held his footing.

"Hey…" Nothing came out but a croak. He swallowed his parched throat and tried again. "Hey!"

At the top of his lungs he screamed, "_Hey!_" The word shattered and broke with his voice, but even the almost soundless choke that came out was swallowed by the sound of sea and storm. Desperation clawed at his chest, little ribs heaving with gasped panicked breaths as he realized the ship would leave without him.

"No nonono." He spun in a circle, totally at a loss before he jumped up and waved his arm. When he landed he fell and hit his bad arm, crying out in pain. Angered frustration welled in him and he cursed words he had heard from the sailors on the docks a few times. He had no idea what they meant, but it still felt good as he spat them and forced himself to his feet.

His stupid arm and his stupid body and the stupid stupid ocean all holding him back from just getting _home_. Again and again he waved his arm, but the ship seemed to get no closer. It was so distant he was not sure they could even see him. He certainly could not make out any shapes on the deck.

Soon the ship seemed to disappear into the water, lost behind rolling waves and Imrahil let out a sob. "Come back! Please! _Come back!_"

There was no answer though and he crumpled down with hiccupping sobs. He just wanted to go home. Desperately he crawled to the edge and shoved his good hand in the water. He no longer cared if the sharks bit him as he paddled and slapped uselessly at the water trying to go after the ship. In the middle of the ocean he could not see if he even was making any headway at all except to spin uselessly in a circle.

At last he simply slumped to the side and curled up. It was hopeless. Eventually his sobs faded into ragged breaths. His eyes rolled despondently.

Water trickled down his face and dashed across his lips. Tiredly he darted his tongue out to lick it up and wondered what the point even was? He would die out here without food if sharks did not get him. The water rolled strong under him.

_Or drowning_, he reminded himself in depression.

Or maybe sharks _and_ drowning. He shuddered.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will himself back to sleep. Certainly he felt tired enough and maybe, just maybe he could sleep through it all and wake up safe at home. Or perhaps not at all. He no longer found he cared so long as it was anything but waking up on this death trap again.

Sleep was elusive though and he found the roll of the waves seemed to take him higher and higher. Despite starting to hope that maybe he could just let it all go, Imrahil found his heart still fluttered in fear each time that sense of weightlessness came as he plunged down another strong roll of the waves.

Even without the sun his skin felt so hot and fevered. Itchy too, he noted. Touching it though was agony and he learned very quick not to scratch his skin, even if it was not near a cut. The cuts looked something awful too and he found it best just not to look at any part of his body.

In time he started up a rhythm. It was an old lullaby his father would awkwardly hum to him when he would come dashing into the older Prince's room during a storm. His father had never been a good singer, but he had tried. Eventually he found he did best humming and so would lay back with Imrahil half curled on his chest rubbing the boy's back to a simple tune.

Imrahil clung to that song now, rapping it out with thumps of his head. Over and over he banged his head back on the wood, lightly at first and then harder and harder as the storm grew louder as if to drown out the storm.

No longer did he try to catch the rain. If he was going to die he wanted it to be anything but sharks or drowning. Happily he embraced his delirium as he hit his head harder and harder until his neck was too tired to move. Limply he let his head roll to the side as the world swam; his vision blurring as rain water dripped into his eyes and they lost focus.

The roar of wind and sea meshed into a senseless rasp in his ears and the salt of the sea overpowered everything. He could almost imagine that he was under the water already and he smiled weakly.

Time seemed to hold and his chest felt like a vice under his breath at the thought of being stuck out here forever unable to die and unable to go home.

He closed his eyes and let the tears go and consciousness fled.

It was still dark when everything came rushing back. There was a jostle and voices and his eyes flew open. Even with the dark clouds overhead and waning light everything was startling bright to him and when something grabbed at him he screamed and hit.

Fear fueled him as he struggled to get up. The sharks were back! Or worse! Maybe there was another dead body in the wood and it was grabbing at him to take it with him into the water and he would be trapped under the waves and drown and then—

His mind ran leagues a minute as he staggered to his feet. Everything spun and he started to fall.

"Whoa there! Catch him!"

One hand splashed into water before several grabbed him and pulled him up. He let out a scream or at least he had tried. All that came out was a dry squeak that broke off into a rasp and a series of coughs.

"By Eru, look at him," someone murmured.

Weakly, Imrahil continued to struggle, but a pair of strong arms banded around him and held him still. "Shhh. Shhhh young one. You're alright."

Imrahil wanted to believe it, really he did, but too many times he had let hope guide him only to be horribly disappointed. The world rocked and after a moment he was set down again. He had won it seemed. Whatever dead sea farers or monsters that had grabbed him had let him go and set him back on his pathetic piece of scrap to fend for himself.

Only… This was soft. His eyes fluttered open and squinted against the patter of rain in the waning light. His good hand flexed and felt at the surface under him. It was smooth and flat and covered in something. He glanced to the side and met with wood, but straight even planks sealed with pitch, not tattered remains. A shadow loomed over him and he started with a weak cry when a man's face peered at him.

"Hey!" Another man slapped the first on his arm. "Don't go scaring the poor lad."

The first gave a shrug and a guilty look. "I was just checking on him. He's in bad shape."

"All the less reason for you to scare the life out of him," the second muttered. An oar was passed over Imrahil and he blinked at it in confusion, his chest heaving rapid puffed breaths. "Here, help me row while Tulos looks at him eh?"

He was on a boat. He was on a _boat_. Hysteria bubbled at his lips with a choked sound which the three men in the boat took for pain. The two rowing through the growing storm traded worried looks over him, but Imrahil did not notice, he simply stared at the sky and laughed in rasping gasps and choked sounds.

Only the burn of his legs drew him back and he jerked them away fitfully. A man, Tulos he assumed, tutted. "Hold still. I need to look at ya." The words were all garbled non-sense to the boy.

Weakly he continued to protest and shift, but the sailor kept poking away at his legs. Tulos hissed between his teeth as he got a look at Imrahil's arm. "Shit. That's bad that is. Broke through the skin."

A rough hand pressed its back against his forehead and Imrahil startled and went perfectly still.

"Fever," Tulos pronounced grimly. "The boy has rampant infections in him. Burns all over, blood loss, probably dehydration and no idea how long he has been without food, but to get out this far? We'll be lucky if he lasts us back to shore."

"Tulos…" The second man warned.

"What Medros? I'm just bein' honest."

Medros stopped rowing to glare at the man. "Well at least don't say stuff like that in front of the kid. You're going to scare him and I think the kid dun be scared enough, don't you?"

A look of remorse flashed over Tulos' face and he went back to examining the state of Imrahil's body.

"Come on, we better pick up the pace if we want to get back to the ship. The storm is getting to rough," the first man rumbled. Medros nodded and the two men heaved their oars together.

Time slid in a funny hazy yellow blur and Imrahil wondered if perhaps he had lost consciousness at some point when he found himself being hoisted up. Not himself, the boat he realized. Ropes had been slid through pulleys and they were being lifted out of the water.

A flurry of voices and motion came over head and he longed to shut it out. It made his head swim with the rocking of the boat with each jerky heft of the ropes. He made a sound as he choked back bile and one of the men propped his head up, but his stomach only cramped uselessly. At last they were swung onto the deck of a far larger ship and Medros leaned over and picked him up in a bundle of blankets.

"By the sea, Aelus was right! There was someone out on the water."

The first man, the one who had leaned over him the first time, scowled. "I told you! Have a little more faith next time eh? I'm lookout for a reason you know." The last bit came in a mutter as a crowd gathered around them.

It occurred to Imrahil that there were a lot of people on this ship. What if they were not all friendly? He had heard tales of the Corsairs of Umbar. Ivriniel had repeated stories she had heard to he and Finduilas at night to scare them. Father had been furious.

Could these men be the fabled Black Numenorians? Imrahil shivered and squeezed his silver eyes shut. As a large man approached he turned his face into the wool blankets. He did not want to know.

A gruff voice swore. "Do you know who that is?"

"No… Who, Captain?"

"It's the Prince."

There were surprised murmurs as the Captain ordered his men to bring Imrahil to his quarters. "Quickly now. Set him on the bed and get Hedrien to look at him."

"How do you know?" the man holding Imrahil asked, the frown on his face evident in his voice.

The Captain clothes rustled with a shake of his head. "When you run enough ships in the Lord Prince's fleet you learn to recognize the similarities. Trust me, that's him."

"But what is the Prince doing all the way out here?" someone asked.

Imrahil's lips parted. He wanted to tell the man, to tell them all they had to get back quickly. Finduilas. They had to find Finduilas. What if she was out in the water too? Was she as not lucky to have something to cling too? And her hip. There was no way she would be able to swim. And the sharks!

Alarmed and delirious under his fever Imrahil bolted up on the Captain's bed, "Fin! FIN!" He struggled against the hands that held him down, but they were too big and too strong for him and he was pressed carefully back onto the lumpy straw bed. "No, no! FIN!"

"Hush now. Calm down my Lord."

But Imrahil would not listen as he shook his head and sobbed out his sister's name again. The Captain's brow furrowed and he looked to the trio that had brought Imrahil in. "Princess Finduilas? Did you see anyone else?"

The three men held their faces in a grimace and shook their heads. Tulos wrung his hands fitfully. "The Prince was the only one there. I saw a few other patches of wood floating out there, but nothing. No one."

The Captain scowled out the windows of his room. "With this storm we can't go out to look again… And there is no telling if she is even out here…"

"I saw no one but the boy when I looked. Er, the Prince I mean," Aelus quickly corrected himself.

For a moment the Captain continued to stare out the windows before he released a heavy sigh. "Chances are, even if she is, after the storm has calmed enough for us to search she won't be any more… And in the Prince's condition I don't feel we have what we need to treat him. We need to get back to shore as quickly as we can and get him to the palace's healer. No doubt they're already searching for him. He looks like he's been out for days with a burn like that." He gestured to the limp form on the bed. "Set course straight for Dol Amroth. This storm will slow us, but it's the best we can do for now."

There were murmurs of assent and those in the room barring the Captain and the arrived Hedrien filed out.

"What do you need Hedrien?"

Hedrien moved up to the bed and frowned down at the child. Imrahil squirmed in pain as Hedrien began to run his hands over his legs. A pained gasp stuttered from his lips when Hedrien touched at a rather ragged cut almost midway up his thigh just beneath the cuff of his braies.

"Clean water. A lot of it. In two buckets. Cloth for bandages too and wood for a splint. Eru, that break is a bad one."

Fingers felt along the broken forearm and Imrahil let out a strangled scream. The Captain started forward with a frown, but Hedrien did not stop. "Shh there my Prince. I need to feel the break." Calloused fingers did quick work and he set the arm back down gently. Protectively Imrahil curled on his side and pulled his arm away.

"The break is only the ulna. His radius is fine."

"… In common?"

There was a hint of a smile in Hedrien's voice. "Only one of the two bones in his forearm is broken." His tone sobered quickly however. "But it's still a serious break. He could have an infection in his bone in which case… He may very well lose it. I'll need to press the bone back into the body to set it. It'll be very painful. Oh, that reminds me, a bit of leather would be good too…"

The Captain did not ask why, that was something they all understood. He strode to the door with heavy thumps of his boots and Imrahil could hear it creak behind him as the Captain leaned out to direct people to gather the needed supplies.

Meanwhile, Hedrien was trying to coax Imrahil back onto his back again. "I cannot make you feel better all curled up like that, now can I?"

There was no answer but ragged pants. Worried stormy gray eyes met pale dazed silver. The backs of fingers brushed his tangled hair aside to feel his forehead and there was a click of Hedrien's tongue on his teeth.

"His fever is bad. We'll need to get it down quickly."

"We should change him," the Captain suggested.

"I would wait till his arm is set. Pulling his tunic over that break with the bone exposed like that will be agony."

There was a hum of agreement. By the time the supplies were quickly ushered in, Hedrien had had no success in getting Imrahil to lay back. He sighed and shook his head. "Well… For now I'll work with what I have."

With a rough cloth he cleaned the abrasions and lacerations to Imrahi's legs and ankle. Eventually Aelus and Medros were called back in to hold Imrahil down as he cried out and struggled against the pain. The Captain willingly allowed himself to be relegated to handing Hedrien what he needed when he needed it and wringing the bloodied cloths clean in one bucket.

"There are splinters imbedded in him…"

There was rustling and a flurry of words and someone left the room. At least the pain had stopped and Imrahil was thankful for that. More words followed, low and calm. He had a feeling they were meant for him, but he did not follow. He would occasionally catch snatches, mentions of his name, the word home and something about being calm. His mind simply latched onto the word 'home' and clung to it.

The door rattled again as it was opened and shut. Hands were on his legs and then pain shot through him. He cried out and struggled anew, weakly hitting at the arms that held him with a tiny fist until his good arm was pinned down again.

"Can't you be more careful Hedrien?"

"How can you make pulling out shards of wood _'gentle'_ might I ask? Because if you know a way feel free to tell me," Hedrien snarled.

The Captain intervened. "Quiet, both of you. Focus on the Prince."

Imrahil craned his neck and watched with wide eyes as the healer dug deep into some of his lacerations with a small pair of forceps. Occasionally he would pluck out a little bit of wood and move onto another. There was one he lingered long on till Imrahil was crying and pleading incoherently.

"Stop! Stop! Please! I'm sorry! _STOP!_"

"Shit Hedrien…"

The healer gritted his teeth. "It's imbedded deep in there… I can't get it."

The other men had grown tense and still under the sobbed pleas from the boy, but Hedrien continued to dig and pick at the wound till at last he removed a lengthy shard. Imrahil's head fell back and he shook.

"That's enough for now I think…" the Captain frowned. Mutely, Hedrien nodded and began to wipe at the fresh blood and wrap up Imrahil's foot and leg until he had to start anew with his other leg.

By the time Hedrien got to Imrahil's arm he was shaking so badly Medros and Aelus began to fret that he was having a fit.

"That ain't normal."

"It is normal."

"It's shock. It's dangerous, but if I don't get his arm in he'll be in for it worse if that bone gets infected. It might already be for all I know. I'm not real good with the serious stuff like that. That'll be up to the royal healers at the palace."

Silver eyes fluttered as a wet cloth was removed from his forehead and then replaced with a fresh cold one. Two more were pressed under his armpits as they tried to tame his fever. The pain in his legs made his head swim. The bandages pressed down on the cuts and rubbed horribly at the burn of his skin with each little movement till he wanted to do nothing more than sit up and rip the bloody things off, but hands kept him pressed to the bed.

He squirmed as his shirt was lifted up to check for injuries and the minors scrapes and cuts there were too bathed and then wrapped. He was unaware at how they were stalling as they eyed his arm with trepidation

At last, Hendrien sighed and carefully lifted his arm up to look at it. Imrahil whimpered at the twinge.

"Right well… I'm going to have to press this back in and then shift it to match up with the rest of the bone… Going to have to pull his hand. I'll need help with that."

There were ill-fated sighs before one man must have raised his arm in acquiescence because Imrahil heard nothing. Words were whispered between the two men before Hedrien leant back over the Prince with a tight smile.

"I'm going to count down from five and when I get to one I'm going to pull it alright?"

Imrahil gave no answer but to stare blankly at the man. Pull? Pull what? He could not possibly mean his arm… Could he?

"Bite down on this, okay?" A strip of leather was placed at his lips and Imrahil's brow furrowed quizzically. Bite it? Why? Did they want him to eat it? He would have made a face if he were able. It sounded disgusting.

Careful, Hedrien pried his mouth open and slipped the strip in for him before he pressed Imrahil's jaw shut on it. The Prince started spit it out, but Hedrien pressed his hand over Imrahil's mouth. "Ah ah. Keep it. Trust me."

This time when he pulled his hand away, Imrahil let it stay despite the disgusting taste it filled his mouth with.

It must have been his arm they had meant to pull because Hedrien picked his arm up again and Aelus held his hand and lower forearm. Panic bubbled in Imrahil's chest and his breathing kicked up. His lips moved to tell them to stop, but all that came out was a cough. He nearly choked on the leather.

"Alright. Five."

_No nonono wait!_ Imrahil wanted to shout.

"Four."

He was not ready for this. He was not ready.

"Three."

There was a sudden brilliant flash of pain and Imrahil managed a strangled shriek before the pain grew even more stunning and the world washed away in a haze of yellow and black.

* * *

**A/N: Phew, that's over with. I would like to say that Imrahil gets a break after this but well… =X It's bad to lie? I'm a terrible person. But because I really need it after today, you guys get two chapters. Huzzah! Onto the next!**


	5. Chapter 4 - Fever Dreams

**A/N: And here you go! I know it's not as much as the last one, but hey! Two updates. That's something, right? Right? D: I love you?**

* * *

There were a lot of voices and they were loud, very loud. His brow furrowed and he tried to open his eyes to see who was so rudely shouting in his room when he was trying to sleep, but they would not open. Perhaps it was his nurse maid. Was he late for lessons again? He had not meant to fall asleep, honest.

He wanted to tell her this, but while his lips parted his tongue did not want to move for him. A moan filled the air. When the voices quieted he realized it must have been him.

"Imrahil! My son! Where did you find him? When!?"

"My Lord Adrahil, my men found him two days past. My lookout, Aelus, spotted him adrift on a pile of wood. When he had found him we thought perhaps there had been a ship wreck but… By the looks of Dol Amroth… What happened?"

There was a rustle of cloth. "There was an earthquake… and then the sea rose up… I am sorry, you will have to speak with my seneschal, I must see to my son."

"I understand."

"Thank you. Thank you so much. I had thought he was dead…"

Rough, but familiar hands held his face gently between them and a kiss was placed to his forehead. "Oh my son… You are alive. Thank Eru you are alive. Quickly, bring Imrahil to his room."

Consciousness fluttered and then fled.

The next time he awoke, if he could even call that, he could hear a flurry of voices. These were softer, but no less urgent. One feminine voice rose above them all and Imrahil's brow furrowed. He knew that voice. It was his father's head healer. What was her name again? Fen… Fenr… Fin.

His sister came to mind and his felt his heart flutter, but he was too tired to open his eyes. His whole body felt so heavy and it _burned_. Badly, Imrahil wanted to cry out his pain, but even the whimper that tried to escape him was dry and broken. It hardly made a sound.

Then the most glorious sound. Deep, his father's voice rumbled in worry.

"Why does he not wake?"

"His fever is bad my Lord and infection is running rampant in him. Sleep is a mercy for him now."

His father made a sound of worry in the back of his throat. "Mercy? You cannot mean he is dying, do you!?"

"No!" There was a rustle of the woman's clothes. "No, my Lord. I am sorry. I mean that his body is exhausted and in great pain and shock. The sleep is a healing one. With the severity of his exposure it is merciful to him to sleep through all this pain. It may be some time before he fully wakes."

Hands ran over his skin not long after she fell quiet and brought with them a soothing cool. It felt so cold it nearly ached and was a harsh contrast to the burn. His body shivered.

He must not have stopped because sounds of worry rose up again and he felt hands hold him still. A noise of frustration rose up in his throat at being unable to move, but he was startled when instead it came out as a scream.

Was that him?

Time slid in an odd way and everything blurred out in a void.

In and out time seemed to come and go in broken segments. Periodically a weathered hand would slip through his hair and he could do no more than lean into the touch. He no longer cared whose it was or whether they were friendly or not; just so long as he knew he was not alone it was enough.

Sometimes he thought he could smell the stench of dead bodies. Fitfully he tried to scream, to get away, but a heavy weight seemed to lay over him and his limbs felt bound and tangled as if in netting or ropes. Voices would come then and calmly wear away at the fears until he settled panting and trembling. In time the humming would lull him back into nothingness.

Something warm pressed against his lips and he tried to turn his head away, but there was a quiet tut and a smooth hand held his face still. He tried to open his mouth to protest, but instead found it filled with liquid warmth. Initially he tried to spit it out and there was a sound of irritation. Something soft rubbed at his face and his nose twitched at the ticklish feeling before the warmth was back.

This time he registered the burst of flavor that coursed his tongue as the liquid filled his mouth again. Reflexively he swallowed and there was a sound of approval. Then, low at first, a song began. Gentle and lulling it grew in strength as time passed. Spoon after spoon of broth filled his mouth until his belly ached with fullness. It felt like he had hardly taken more than a few mouthfuls, but his stomach began to roil with nausea and he weakly let his face roll away. An irritated sound of protest rumbled in his throat when that hand came back again to tilt him toward the spoon.

"You cannot be full already."

Ivriniel.

Imrahil parted his lips to answer her, but nothing but labored breath came out. Softly, his sister sighed and there was a clunk as porcelain as placed down on wood. Then, after a time, the singing came back. It was the last Imrahil heard before time left him again.

There was a creak of wood and Imrahil felt his heart jolt. The raft. The raft was falling apart. Convulsively his hands gripped at the blankets, or at least tried. For some reason his right hand would not work. When he tried to move it pain shot up his arm and he moaned.

A voice hushed him, fingers running over his face and through his hair. He felt horribly torn between leaning into the touch or shying from it. Were these people safe? Pirates? Dead people? He shuddered. He felt the hand tense against his face and he wanted to curl away from it, but his body would not obey.

"It has been three days… Why has he not awakened?"

There was a tired sigh and a hand rubbed smooth with age soothed over his brow, the backs of the fingers lingering there. A voice that must have belonged to the second hand, spoke, "These things take time my Lord. The Prince was terribly hurt and his body was pushed to his limits. Little food and water has left him weakened."

"But three days? He has not even opened his eyes and hardly made a sound beyond his pain."

There was a rustle and cold air washed over him. The heavy weight that had seemed to keep him pinned for, what was it? Days? It lifted suddenly in the cold breeze and he felt both free and suddenly frightened at the change. Hands ran over him then and he parted his mouth to cry out, but no sound came, just a rush of air.

There was a deep sound of distress to his right and he felt hands on his cheek, his forehead, his neck, his hair. Always brushing and stroking in soothing motions to settle him.

The hands on his legs and arms brought at first a burning as they felt over tender skin and broken flesh, but in time the burning faded as did the aches. Something bitter was slipped into his mouth and he gagged on the fluid, but as the heavy warmth was settled back onto him he felt sweet numbness creep through him and his whole body went limp. He felt as if he were cradled in a cloud.

Sleep yawned and swallowed him once more.

The wind howled horribly. It was the first thing he noticed. It was loud and it rattled and shook the windows; no, the world. The heat suddenly seemed stifling and he struggled to get free, but found himself hardly able to do more than twitch.

He felt foolish and frustrated.

The howl of the wind was swallowed as the sea roared and he froze. He could see the wave rising up ready to swallow everything. He could hear the screams as people ran and he stood in the street frozen. Gleaming buildings of white and gold and silver were shadowed under the dark swell of the water as it rose up over everything. Never had he seen anything so high. He could almost swear that the waves would scrape the dark low roiling clouds.

One thought broke through over everything.

Finduilas.

His sister. Where was his sister?

Unbearably slow it seemed, he twisted and stumbled forward. He was alone now, the city empty on his side as the people fled and pressed themselves uselessly against the opposite walls in the distance. People were crushed beneath each other's feet as they clambered over one another in a futile effort to escape.

He cried out for his sister, but his voice seemed lost in the growing clamor of the sea and wind. Why could he not move? He struggled through the street, his limbs weighed down and clumsy. Never mind the fact that he seemed far too tall. He tossed his head in frustration, hair torn wildly in the growing tempest.

Again he screamed for his sister. Urgency pulled at him as he feared she was already in grave danger. The water had taken her. His brow furrowed as he glanced back to the wave that began to swallow the city even now. But the water was not here yet, so how could it have taken her?

"FIN! Finduilas!"

His voice was swallowed by the clamor of terrified screams that filled his ears even when the crowds were so distant.

Suddenly the world dipped and he felt cold wash over his feet. The water was here. He was sinking, drowning. Why could he not move his limbs!?

He cried out again in terror with a voice that seemed too old to be his own. A sob tore from his lips and he struggled against the weight that wrapped around him. Warmth came with it, a pair of arms that braced him back against a strong chest. His initial thought was to struggle and so he did, trying to rip free, but found himself too weak and unable.

But the water was nearly upon him and all his protests and effort seemed so pointless now. Hopelessness swelled and he gave in then and simply pressed himself against the warm strength that enveloped him. A quiet murmuring brought with it a sense of security.

The roaring was louder now. The water was nearly on top of him. He lay there and simply shook, awaiting the moment that the water would hit him and tear him asunder. When he had lain upon the ground he was unsure, but weight against his back remained and he twisted to bury his face against it, no longer able to bear the sight of the wall of water that was even now crashing down upon them.

"Shhh, little one. It is alright. It will be okay."

But how did they know? How could they be so sure in the face of such horror? How could anything be okay when Finduilas was lost?

The water hit them then, before he could give voice to his confusion, and he cried out and then as the water wrapped around them darkness pulled him under and he remembered no more.

There was a humming. It was familiar. His brow furrowed as he tried to figure it out. A rhythmic thump of his head on wood came back to him, his father's lullaby.

The crease in his brow deepened as he struggled to open his eyes and force awareness back.

_Home. Home. Homehomehome._

Please, he wanted to beg, please let this be real. Let this time, just once, his hope be fulfilled.

At last his eyes flashed open and it was dark. His room flickered with the light of half a dozen candles in small shell lamps. Blearily his eyes scanned along the canopy of his bed and fell to his father. The older man was seated on the bed beside him, half asleep as he ran the pad of his thumb continuously over the little hand held in his own. The dull silver eyes that fell to him seemed to startle him and for a moment the pair stared at one another as if not sure to believe this were happening.

His lips parted once, than twice before finally, "Father? Where…? Am I… I'm home?" His voice came weakly, barely a whisper in the still room.

His father choked out a laugh that sounded more like a cry and leaned over to press his lips to Imrahil's hair. "Yes. Yes you are home my Sea Star… You are home."

A pair of arms wrapped loosely around him and Imrahil tried to reach up with his own to return it, but a twinge in his right arm had him dropping quickly back to the bed with a sound of distress. Adrahil pulled back quickly and looked him over. "Are you alright?" Then he laughed and shook his head. "Stupid question I fear."

Imrahil smiled weakly. He wanted to kick at the pile of blankets draped over him. It was far too hot in here and he felt damp and gross, but his legs were sore and tired and could do no more than feebly nudge at the sheets.

His father tutted and laid a hand on his thigh to still him. "No. Keep them on. You have a terrible fever. Your wounds are infected and have brought unnatural heat with them. The blankets will help break it."

The word break only made Imrahil try and sit up in distress.

Break? He did not want any more of those. One was just plenty and if these blankets were going to give him another than there was no way that he was going to sit in this bed an—

"Shhh, hush little one." A large warm hand pressed gently against his chest and eased him back onto the bed. Adrahil hardly had to press at all to keep Imrahil pinned down. The eight year old child was so weakened that Adrahil had to do little more than simply rest his arm limply across the boy's chest to keep him still.

A frustrated growl rumbled in Imrahil's chest and his father chuckled. "Stubborn even now."

Stuck, there was little Imrahil could do but think. His legs, arms, and face pulsed with heat. To move his face made it feel as if his skin was going to tear open. The dull ache of his right arm that thrummed through him brought to mind the sight of bone pierced through skin. Imrahil shuddered at the memory. It felt weighted and itchy now and his nose wrinkled faintly, unsure if this was any better or worse than before when every puff of window or bump would make it throb.

A broken arm was no so terrible he supposed. It was better than a broken hip at least and—

His eyes flew wide and he struggled to get up again. Adrahil frowned and tried to soothe him. "Imrahil, stop. What is wrong? Shhh my Sea Star. You are safe, relax."

"Fin!" Imrahil sobbed out, his voice cracking. "Fin's hurt!"

Surprise registered on Adrahil's face before it relaxed into a pained smile. "She is yes, but she is okay. She is just down the hall. I promise."

Indeed, the Princess had been gravely hurt, Adrahil reflected. It was somewhat humorous he supposed, in a sickening and depressing way, that when they had found Finduilas limp and half conscious on a collapsed balcony that her first concern, after she realized she was safe again, was Imrahil.

Truly, he thought, he had good children. He leant in to press another kiss to the crown of his son's head as the boy seemed to settle.

"Fin's okay?"

"I would not say she is doing well now per say, but she will be alright in time, just like you will." It pained him to see the fearful look on his son's face as he glanced in the direction of his sister's room, but Adrahil could never be dishonest with his children unless at the uttermost need. To coddle them would only make it more difficult on them should things fall through.

"Sleep now. You will feel better the more you do."

And Imrahil did try, but every time he closed his eyes he could see the wave coming for him again and the sound of the waves pounding against the rocks beneath the palace made him quiver in fear.

His fever waxed and waned, much to his father's frustration, and multiple times the child had tried to scramble away from pale shapes like sharks or wailed about the smell of death. It pained Adrahil horribly to watch as his son's awareness seemed to come and go. He tried not to let frustration rule him when Imrahil would refuse water.

"Please my son, drink." He had about given up trying to hide the frustration in his voice.

Stubbornly, Imrahil turned his head away and tried to curl up, though Adrahil and his own injuries repeatedly stopped him. "No no. Sea water. Bad. No. Don't."

While it pleased him to know Imrahil had taken his lessons to heart, Adrahil grumpily noted that this was the worst time for it. "It is not sea water. It is fresh. Imrahil… You are dehydrated. You need water."

In the end he had to all put pry his son's mouth open to get it in and it hurt him to hear Imrahil's distress, especially as his fingers dug into the terrible skin burns on his face. "Shh, shhh, just drink. It is alright. There now. See?"

As soon as the first droplet hit Imrahil's tongue he would practically choke himself trying to guzzle it down. If only Adrahil did not find himself practically repeating the same steps over and over with each offer of water.

Outside the sea slammed hard into the cliffs and Imrahil gasped in alarm and flinched away from it. Still he would not sleep.

"They'll eat me! They smell the dead man," he whimpered.

Adrahil flinched. The sailors had made no mention of a dead man when they had found Imrahil. His lips twisted into a frown. He would have to ask them about that, but for now all he could do was assure his son.

"You are safe in bed. There is no one but me Sea Star."

The words seemed to go unheard like much of what Adrahil said and at last he sighed and climbed into his son's bed and pulled the child onto his chest. There, wrapped in his arms, the boy stilled but for tiny shivers and flinches. The sounds of his whimpers were lost under the low hum of his father's voice and the pounding of the sea.

* * *

**A/N: Bonus points if you caught the reference of the dream. Though then again, if you're reading a story about Imrahil chances are you've read the books and if you've read the books then chances are you'll know. But shhhh… I like to try to pretend to be clever sometimes.**


	6. Chapter 5 - Reunions and Guilt

**A/N: Every time I reread this section to edit I get the warm fuzzies. Hopefully you guys will enjoy it as much. (And it's rather funny how this is I think my fourth or so reread of the finished story for edits and I am STILL finding typos and other issues. Yeesh.)**

* * *

Imrahil's fever broke on the second day after he had awakened. The palace healers had all been a fuss about it after what news the ship's healer had given them.

"Five days at the least!" Feniras, Adrahil's head healer, had fussed. "Who knows how long his temperature has been so high. So many are left touched in the head after things like that."

"Shhh!" Another healer had hissed. "The Lord Prince will hear you. Poor man is already worried enough without you saying things like that."

Feniras had tutted and shooed the other woman off for her sass, but it did not matter. Adrahil had already heard and he spent the day tightly clutching his son's hand and sending every prayer he could think of to Eru.

More aware than he had been previously, Imrahil still wondered constantly through strange dreams. Ever he envisioned the great wave that sought to envelope Dol Amroth. Or, he thought it was Dol Amorth, yet the buildings were all strange and foreign to him. There was a familiarity in their shape, but little else. He would awaken to the screams of the terrified and the smell of death. Little Adrahil said brought much comfort to him.

Even the sight of his fixed seahorse shell had little effect on him. With a smile, Adrahil entered Imrahil's room, one arm tucked curiously behind his back. Blearily, the boy blinked at him in bemusement. "Papa?"

"I have a surprise for you." The words made Imrahil perk up, his expression adorably owlish. With a flourish, Adrahil held out his hand to Imrahil, the small shell cradled in his palm. Painstakingly, Adrahil had carefully glued the pieces back together. When Finduilas had been found and brought back to the palace with no sign of her brother, Adrahil found himself sleepless. Days were spent scouring the city and beach for his missing son and nights were spent trying to sooth his distressed daughter.

While she slept fitfully, Adrahil was unable to find the same exhausted moments of peace. Instead he sat at the dressing table in her room and spent many hours trying to work the tiny shell back together with as little sign of damage as possible. In his mind he kept telling himself how excited Imrahil would be to see his favorite shell again when he was brought back home. Whispers in the back of his mind had added an 'if' to the thought. Adrahil dashed it from his mind.

A delighted gasp met his offering and Adrahil's face creased in a pleased smile as Imrahil took the seahorse from his hand with exaggerated gentleness. Fine cracks ran over it where the pieces met. Painstakingly all excess glue had been sanded away and the cracks simply appeared as if they had always been a part of it.

One tiny finger traced over the cracks, but there was no dim in Imrahil's smile at the sight of them. Silver eyes flicked up to Adrahil's face. "Thank you papa!" his voice croaked.

Adrahil ran a weathered hand over Imrahil's tangled hair. "You are most welcome Sea Star."

But when eventually the seahorse was once more placed among Imrahil's other shells and carvings, the joy of it faded under the onslaught of fears and nightmares that came with the setting of the sun.

On the third day Imrahil was trying to get out of bed. When he woke his father was asleep, slumped in his chair onto Imrahil's bed. The child had curiously poked him and when he had deemed his father safely asleep, he tried to creep from his bed.

He managed to get his feet under him before they promptly gave out and sent him crashing to the floor with a pained yelp. In moments Adrahil was up and scowling. He scooped the thin child up and deposited him back into bed. The dazed and innocent look Imrahil had lain on his father only worked half as well as he had hoped.

"Imrahil…" his father warned.

Despondently Imrahil picked at loose threads on his quilt. "I wanted to see Fin…"

The words worked the other half and his father sighed. Carefully he ran a hand through his son's hair. "I know. She has been asking about you as well, but both of you need to rest. You are both sick and hurt and if you two keep trying to get out of bed you will only make it worse. Stay, for me, please."

It took a deal of coaxing, but he managed to get a promise out of Imrahil to stay put. When he was called away to his duties that he could no longer put off, he placed Ivriniel in charge of watching her brother. Promise or no promise, he knew his son's cunning ability to find loop holes.

While Imrahil was happy to see his oldest sister alive and well, he was less than pleased with her fussing.

"Oh your hair," she frowned and ran her fingers through the tangles. "It is a mess."

He hissed and swatted her hand away weakly. "Stop. It hurts."

"Oh, the burns. Sorry. Well… Hmmm…" Determined the sixteen year old girl hunted about his room for a comb and a damp cloth. Propped up on pillows Imrahil squirmed and tried to get away as the girl attempted to give his hair an impromptu washing. She had managed to get out half the snags and tangles before the boy's plaintive sounds turned to real distress as the pain on his burnt scalp grew too much.

Ivriniel finally set cloth and comb aside. "We can do the rest another time." She ignored the way Imrahil scowled at her. Always she was so concerned about appearance. Finduilas hated it almost as much as Imrahil did when their sister would fuss and pick over their every little look and movement.

Hunger gnawed at Imrahil's empty stomach and it growled in accordance. His burnt skin flushed an even deeper shade of red at how loud it sounded in the quiet of his room.

"Are you hungry?" Ivriniel asked.

The question seemed a silly thing to him to ask, but Imrahil nodded politely. "Yes please."

His sister brushed her hand over his shoulder and cast him a smile as she left the room. When she was gone he painfully leaned over and swatted the comb off behind the night table. There was no way he was letting her do that again.

Nor would he let her feed him like he was two when she came back. She smiled and bobbed the spoon at him. "Open up!" she said in a sing song voice. He wrinkled his nose at her and pressed his lips tightly together until she gave an unusual roll of her eyes.

"Oh Imrahil… It is just soup. Come on. Open."

"I want to feed myself."

The spoon was plopped back into the thick soup with a heavy sigh. "You are too weak."

The words came as a challenge and if Imrahil could have stubbornly crossed his arms he would have. As it was he settled for one. "Am not."

The quirk of his sister's brow said that she thought otherwise, but she placed the wooden tray in his lap regardless. Determined Imrahil grasped the spoon in his left hand. It felt odd and he had some issue settling it right in his hand, but he managed. His proud expression wavered though when he found that the spoon shook terribly in his hand when he lifted his arm.

Confused and frustrated he frowned at it when it wobbled so badly half the soup spilt out. Ivriniel started to reach for it and he shook his head. She sighed and relented. When the rest of the soup ended up spilt down his chin instead of in his mouth however she took the tray and the spoon back.

"See? I told you, but you will not listen." The spilt soup on his chin was roughly swiped up with a cloth and Ivriniel jabbed the spoon into the bowl. When she lifted it again she paused at the look on his face. Through the all of his hair she could make out the wobble of Imrahil's chin and she sighed and set the spoon down again.

"It is alright you know. It takes time to heal and get your strength back." He said nothing in response and she set the tray aside on the night table. If she noticed the missing comb she said nothing of it. Slowly she eased herself onto the bed and curled an arm around him. The gesture startled Imrahil and he looked up at her with wide eyes. Ivriniel smiled at him. "I am not that awful am I?"

Rapidly Imrahil shook his head and she gave him the faintest squeeze. "I am sorry… About hurting your scalp and your chin."

"It's okay," he uttered so quietly she almost did not hear it at all.

They sat in an awkward silence as Ivriniel tried to wrack her mind for something to say to cheer him up. At last she smiled and said, "I heard you were out there for three days and you managed to survive all on your own. You must have been very brave. Sailors said you even tried to fight them off when they found you." There was a cheer in her voice that did not sound quite all there, but what pride she had hoped to stir in Imrahil did not come. Indeed, it only upset him more.

Ivriniel seemed started when the boy sniffled. Imrahil tried to say something, but it came out as garbled non-sense to his sister. Quietly she sighed and pulled him closer to her. "Oh Imrahil…"

The next time she tried to feed him he did not protest.

It took nearly two weeks after his fever broke before Feniras deemed Imrahil fit enough to leave his bed. Though, by that point, he had gone so long without using his legs that he wobbled and fell after the first few steps. He flushed in embarrassment as his father had to half hold him all the way to Finduilas' room.

In the door way to his sister's room he froze. Even relaxed in sleep his sister looked terrible. Her face and neck were scratched as well as her hands. The rest of her was covered for both warmth and propriety, but he could make out the hints of bandages under her nightgown. Her hips and legs were propped up on pillows beneath the covers and she was horribly pale.

"Fin…" he whispered. Then louder, "Finduilas!"

"Shh!" his father had hushed, but his sister stirred and Imrahil struggled forward and nearly fell before his father caught him. "Whoa, whoa. Alright. Steady."

The Lord Prince scooped his youngest up into his arms and carried him to Finduilas' side as her eyes fluttered open. She nearly jumped out of bed too when she spotted who had called her.

"Imrahil!"

Adrahil pressed his eyes shut. Between the two of them somehow he knew he was going to end up with a child out of bed and tumbling down the stairs when they should be resting.

The older girl gasped at the sight of her brother. "You look terrible!"

Imrahil blinked as he had opened his mouth to say the same thing. He looked down at himself and realized that in all honesty, he did look no better. Both his legs were wrapped up tightly and his skin held a faint hint of pink and sores where it had blistered terribly. His arm too was strapped to his chest.

"You look worse," he teased.

Finduilas huffed and crossed her arms at him. "Don't joke! When I could not find you I thought you were dead! I told you to climb up on the roof! Why did you not listen!? You never listen!"

The tirade came out unexpected and Imrahil flinched back in his father's arms. "I didn't want to leave you alone…"

"A lot of good that did me. I was stuck either way, but you could have been safe and I would not have had to worry myself sick about you for days!" The girl's voice wobbled and Adrahil could feel his son's face press into his neck as he tried to escape his sister's anger. So badly he longed to step in and pull them apart. He did not want to see either of them hurt, but he knew his children would have to learn to fight their own battles and the risk of taking a side would be a slippery slope.

"I'm sorry. I was worried about you… When I was out in the water I thought you might have been washed out too and I missed you. I kept calling but there was no answer and I thought…" Imrahil sniffled and Adrahil felt his skin dampen with his son's lashes.

When Finduilas opened her arms though, Adrahil happily deposited his son onto his daughter's bed. Imrahil made a startled and alarmed sound as he feared he was behind handed over to his sister's wrath, but instead found himself pulled into a tight hug.

"Never do that again ever you stupid idiot. You scared me."

Neither sibling was sure when Adrahil had discretely left the room, but after clinging to one another for a while to reassure themselves that indeed their sibling had survived, they looked up to find their father gone.

Curiously they poked and examined one another. Finduilas tugged her hair half over her face when Imrahil started looking at all the cuts and scrapes. "Oh don't. I'm going to scar and be horrible."

"You will be fine," Imrahil childishly rolled his eyes. He did not understand why girls seemed to fuss so much about their hair and their face. "Ivriniel probably has a cream for that. She has a cream for _everything_." And she did, in his mind at least. When she had seen the state of his skin after the burns she had fussed and fussed over Imrahil and tried to get _him_ to let her apply something to make it 'look nicer' but he had fought her off with a pillow.

There was a suspicious sniff from the other side of Finduilas' hair though and as nosy as any eight year old boy, Imrahil tried to peer around at her. "Fin? Fiiiin…" She pushed him away.

"I'm going to be ugly…"

Imrahil blinked bewildered at that. Why would anyone think that? If anything if she did scar would they not see them as a sign of her bravery? Perhaps people thought of scars on women differently. He frowned at that. It did not seem fair in his mind.

"You're not going to be ugly," he puffed.

"Yes I am. All these cuts and scratches are going to turn into scars and leave my face all—" she made some random gestures with her hands that made absolutely no sense. With a huff Imrahil slid off the bed and bit back at yelp as he landed on his battered knees. His legs did not want to work for him and he had to half lean on the bed to scoot around it.

How Finduilas did not hear him coming, he was unsure, but she looked startled when he popped up from the floor and scowled in her face. "You're not ugly. You're pretty and if any boy tells you otherwise I will pop him in the face." He gave a firm nod and was rewarded when his sister's surprised expression crinkled into a giggle.

Triumphant, Imrahil grinned at her and darted his hand to her neck making her pull away with a laugh as he tickled her. "Stop it! Brat!" She grumped good naturedly, a smile on her face.

Happy to see that over and done with Imrahil came to a dilemma, how did he get back on the bed with cut up legs and one good arm? He frowned at the bed for a while before he finally shrugged and simply attacked directly by trying to scramble up. It was painful and slow going, but with a bit of help from his sister, he managed to seat himself beside her again.

He frowned at the rising lumps of her legs.

"Why are both your legs propped up? Didn't you hurt your hip?"

There was a pensive silence and Finduilas nodded. She chewed on her lip for a moment before she put on a smile. Even at his age Imrahil could see that it was wrong, fake.

"My legs got hurt too, but they will be alright."

Imrahil's brow furrowed. "Hurt how?"

Non-descriptively, Finduilas just waved her hand again. "Just hurt. They're fine."

Before she could offer a protest Imrahil grabbed the sides of her quilt and blankets and pulled them back over her legs.

"Hey!" Finduilas yelped, but it was too late. Imrahil gasped at the casts that ran along the length of both of her legs as his sister tried to get the blankets back over and hissed and whimpered at the pain her struggle caused her.

Quickly he shook himself and grabbed the blankets and pulled them back over her legs to see her glaring at him with teary eyes. "Fine. They are broken."

"Broken?" He asked.

"Yes. Fenrias says that… That if they don't heal right I might not be able to… To walk. Again. And then my hip…" Her voice was breathy with tears that she fought against. Imrahil found he could not take his eyes off her legs even after they were covered.

His fault. It was his fault. He had pushed her and ran down the beach. Then he had wandered out to the sea. When everyone was running he had lingered and she had to come for him. If he had not left the palace she would be fine. If he had just come when she had called him they could have gotten to safety. Her hip would be okay and her legs…

She was saying something else now, but he did not hear it. His breath had grown ragged.

_My fault. This is my fault. My fault._

He was off her bed and stumbling toward the door, his hand reaching out to grab everything he could to steady himself.

"Imrahil?"

He ignored her.

_My fault. She's hurt because of me_.

She would be stuck in that bed forever. What did it matter if boys thought she was ugly if she could never walk? He remembered the fear of being stuck out on the raft alone for the rest of his life. That sense of loneliness was so overwhelming. Did she feel like that too?

Imrahil almost fell when he pushed Finduilas' door open.

"Imrahil!" There was pain in her voice and sadness. He had caused that.

Quickly he hurried down the hall and behind him she shouted, "Imrahil come back!" But he did not stop to go back. She was better off without him.

The voices of the maids were only a warble in his ears, but one name caught his attention and froze him half slumped against a wall.

"It's a shame though… What happened to Merina."

Merina. He knew that name. His nurse maid. It had struck him as curious that he had not seen her once during his time being bed ridden. Why have a Princess look after the Prince when he had a nurse maid?

"It is… Poor love. She did not deserve that." The woman's voice fell sadly.

The first sighed softly. "I cannot think of a more terrible way to die than drowning."

Dead.

_No… She can't…_

"Didn't even find a body for her… Her poor husband. He's been beside himself looking for her. Roaming up and down the beach every day calling for her. Poor soul… He's about cracked I think."

He could remember now. Merina calling after them not to run off to far, tutting as they rough housed in the surf, hiking up her skirts to bustle after them when they took off to keep an eye on them.

Against the wall he crumpled down and stifled a sob. It was even worse. Not only had he left his sister bed ridden for the rest of her life from his own stupidity, but now Merina was dead. He pressed his eyes hard into his knees until he saw stars. He killed her.

Somehow he had managed to get back to his room. He recalled half crawling and pressing himself back under a small table to avoid notice from a hurrying maid.

In his room he locked the door and feebly kicked a chair in front of it. By the time he was done he was too tired to get up onto his bed and instead edged himself under it. He would stay under here where no one else could get hurt.

If that night when it stormed and the flash of lightning and the drapes that blew in the wind looked like circling sharks or the dead come for revenge well then that was his own fault. He curled up tight and screamed in terror at the pounding on the door that went on into the night.

* * *

**A/N: I feel like a monster. "Those are some nice injuries you got there… Would be a shame if someone were to… GIVE YOU EMOTIONAL TRAUMA ON TOP OF IT!" Currently I am editing to the sound of little kitten snores. D'aw. With this we are just over a third of the way through the story. =)**


	7. Chapter 6 - A Test of Trust

**A/N: I seriously wish I had a home styled like how I imagine the palace of Dol Amroth in my head. Lots of windows, balconies, tan and white stone dotted with shells or shell fossils, and very open. Don't forget the sweeping curving staircases.**

Morning was warm and soft. He smiled and pressed himself into the solid heat against him.

Warm? Soft? His eyes fluttered open and he jolted in alarm. Stern gray eyes frowned down at him in concern.

He glanced over his shoulder to find the door open, the chair toppled to the side. A pair of strong arms tightened around him as he tried to scramble away.

"Imrahil… What has gotten in to you?"

The young Prince did not answer and only shook his head rapidly. He had to get away. His father was not safe with him. The sound of the surf roared up the beach outside the balcony doors and Imrahil gasped in panic. The sea was coming for his father next!

Adrahil made a sound of alarm as Imrahil managed to squirm out from his grasp and half fell off the bed.

"Imrahil!"

Before he do could more than crawl half a step a pair of strong hands scooped him up much to his dismay. He struggled and pressed against his father's chest trying to break free.

"What in the name of Arda…? Imrahil! Stop it!"

His father's gripped tightened painfully and Imrahil subdued himself with a strangled sound of distress. Slowly, as though waiting for Imrahil to try and make a break for it any second, Adrahil loosened his hold. He only relaxed it utterly when Imrahil flinched at the sound of the sea and pressed his face into his father's neck.

Adrahil's chest rose and fell with a heavy sigh and he shook his head at a loss. Back onto the bed he eased himself down and propped Imrahil in his lap. Imrahil gave no protest and his father pressed his cheek against his head.

"You scared your sister you know."

There was a hint of disappointment and scorn in the words. Imrahil tensed against them.

"One of the maids came to get me from my meeting about what to do in order to relieve the people after such a disaster. She said your sister was in complete distress, crying."

In his lap Imrahil sunk down and scrunched in on himself, but his father's arms closed around him tighter and he knew he was stuck.

"She would not say much, not that I could understand, but she was sobbing about her legs and I heard your name in there. When I came to get you, you had locked and bared your door… Care to explain that? Or why I found you under the bed in a complete mess? You scratched Amenas something awful when he tried to pull you out."

That, Imrahil did not remember. He frowned and furrowed his face hard in thought. He thought he could recall banging on the door, but after that? He shook his head. Amenas was his father's seneschal and he could not recall seeing him once since he had been brought back. When he looked as it hands now, he could see blood under his left nails. Imrahil flinched. Yet another person he had hurt.

Adrahil must have taken his shaking head as a sign he refused to explain himself. He bounced his knee, jarring the boy in stern reprimand. "Imrahil… As a Prince you must take responsibility for your actions. You hurt Amenas yesterday and terrified your sister. Why?"

"I don't remember Amenas…" Imrahil mumbled. There was a rumble of frustration in Adrahil's chest and Imrahil started to curl up again.

"Alright, enough of this. You have been cooped up in here too long." With that Adrahil rose to his feet and strode out of the room, Imrahil in hand. Tentatively he waved at the members of the household staff who smiled or greeted them or gave well wishes for his health, but he was cowed by the stormy look on his father's face.

Through the foyer down the hall to the back where there was a large sitting room. Windows lined the wall from side to side and top to bottom. The view of the sea from there was stunning and it was meant as a greeting room for important nobility. Those not from the region were always awed and stunned by the view.

To Imrahil it just looked terrifying now.

When his father slipped out the doors onto the balcony and started down the steps to the sea Imrahil went into full panic.

"No!" He struggled as hard as he could. Feet kicked, body wiggled, and even his broken arm pressed hard against Adrahil till the man was forced to set him down out of fear he would hurt himself. His father watched stunned as he scrambled back up the steps towards the door.

With quick strides he caught up to his son and pressed a hand against the door, shutting it before Imrahil could get back inside. Uselessly Imrahil tugged on the handle and made a sound of fear. Confused Adrahil crouched down, making sure to keep the door pressed closed as his son was in near tears trying to get it back open. Wet silver eyes flashed fearfully towards the sea and Adrahil followed them.

He shook his head. "I do not understand. I thought you would like it out here. The sound of the water has always soothed your temper and fears… But you are afraid now."

Imrahil thumped a fist one last time feebly against the door and sank down and pressed himself back against it to get as far from the water as possible. He held himself in a quivering ball.

"I suppose I should have seen this coming," his father said in self recrimination. "The sea hurt you so you fear it now, but there is nothing to be afraid of Imrahil." One hand smoothed through the boy's hair, but he was barely listening.

He needed to get back inside, now. More importantly, he needed to get father back inside. Did father not realize the danger he was in? Any minute the sea could come and swallow them up. His heart raced. What if his struggles had made father fall down the stairs? He was dangerous.

Immediately he tried to scoot away from Adrahil and made a sound of frustration and upset when he father pulled him back and took him into his lap. The harder he fought the tighter his father held him till Adrahil was curled around him utterly and the sound of his singing cut over the distressed cries and grunts of his son.

Finally Imrahil worked himself into exhaustion and he lay against his father's chest panting. It occurred to him then that his father was singing, not just humming. Father never sang.

As the song wound to an end, Adrahil pressed his face into his son's hair and sighed. Then quietly he murmured, "Are you afraid of me too? You shy from my touch. Have I ever done anything to make my children fear me so?"

It had not occurred to Imrahil that his father would take it that way. Swiftly he shook his head.

"Then why do you struggle to get away from me now?" Confusion laced his father's voice.

Shame burned through Imrahil. How did he tell his father he was a murderer? That he had crippled his sister for life? Did Adrahil not see it? What would he do then when Imrahil opened his eyes to what he had done?

Too soft to be understood, Imrahil mumbled his terrible deeds. His father's chest shook with a snort of amusement. "I fear I cannot understand the voice of a little mouse." Tickling fingers ran up Imrahil's sides and pulled a laugh from him against his will.

"You will have to speak louder, Little Mouse."

Mirth fled as Imrahil bit his lip. A little louder he managed to mutter out his words, but still, Adrahil could not make sense of them. "Little Mouse…" he warned, though the tone kept its teasing.

The sea roared and Imrahil blurted, "I killed Merina."

He could feel his father go rigid under him. This was it. His father was going to cast him out. His father had always been a fair and kind man, but how could you be kind to a murderer? Perhaps they would lock him up like they did with other criminals. He shivered.

"What makes you say that?"

The question was not what Imrahil had expected and he blinked rapidly. When he spoke again there was hesitation in his voice that mingled with shame. "I ran down the beach away from the castle… She told us not to go far but… Because she chased after us, since I didn't listen she… she…" His breath hiccupped as he played with the ties of his father's sleep tunic, looking for the shell necklace tucked underneath.

"Imrahil… You—"

Before his father could condemn him though, he surged ahead. What point was there in dragging it out? If he was to be punished he might as well confess all his crimes now.

"And Finduilas is hurt because of me too! When the water pulled out to sea I walked after it because I was curious. She told me to come back, but I was slow to listen. If I had come back sooner we could have gotten to the city in time and she wouldn't have gotten her legs broken! And her hip! And now she'll never walk again and it's my fault!" His voice came out in a rushed wail.

Tightly Adrahil held him as he shook. This was it. His father's muscles trembled in anger and he would be lucky if the man did not strike him.

But no blow came. Slowly the world rocked as Adrahil leaned from side to side. "Shhh now… Shhhh."

His father did not sound angry… But how? Confusion marred Imrahil's face as he tried to meet his father's eyes, but Adrahil kept his head tucked under his chin as he hummed and shushed him.

"I- I didn't mean to-to scr-scratch Amenas. I don't- I don't remember do-doing that." His words were broken by quiet hiccups. "I couldn't get on my-my bed and the sharks and the-the dead people… They were go-going to eat me."

"No one is going to eat you my Sea Star. No one." A finger tapped his nose and he blinked in surprise.

"But—"

"And what happened to Merina and your sister is _not_ _your fault_."

Imrahil was scooted around in his father's lap so the man could lean down and press their foreheads together. The child tried to shy from the touch, but a warm hand cupped the back of his head and held him there. Smooth gray and silver met.

"My son… What happened was not your fault, not ever. Finduilas certainly does not blame you. Yes, she is frightened and she will have some trouble ahead of her with her legs, but Fenrias thinks she is making a good recovery."

"Merina…" Imrahil whimpered.

His father sighed and closed his eyes, but when he opened them again they were unwavering and his voice was firm in his belief, "What happened to Merina was unfortunate, but not your fault. Should you stay close to the Palace when without supervision? Yes, but even if you had asked instead of running off she still would have gone with you down to the docks. What happened to Merina was an accident."

A hand stroked through Imrahil's hair reassuringly, "It has been many many many decades since something like that has ever happened. Most of us have long forgotten about such disasters outside of the tale of Numenor, and that certainly was not a normal happenstance. Even if the three of you had stayed here there is no telling if you would have gotten up the beach in time. I think then, it would have been even worse and I would have lost you all."

It made no sense in Imrahil's mind. So close to home how would they have not been safe? The steps were only just there. They could have swum to them, so he thought.

"I don't understand…"

His father smiled, though it was tinged with pain as his imagination ran ahead of him. "The cliffs here can be dangerous. If the three of you had not made it to the steps before the water it you would have been hit against them. Waves that crash against the rocks or cliffs are very dangerous and many have died in such conditions. So, in the end, going down where the beach is flat and free of rocks, I think you may have saved your sister and yourself from poor Merina's fate."

It still seemed preposterous to Imrahil, but his father was a smart man and so he would trust him, even if he did not fully comprehend why.

"As for Amenas, I think he has already forgiven you. You were quite scared last night."

The memory of his fear and the fact that people had born witness to it made Imrahil flush with embarrassment. At eight he should not be so scared of the dark, he told himself. He was a big boy, but still he remembered the pale shapes and shadows that dashed across the wall and the roar of the sea and he shivered.

Even big men were afraid of sharks and the dead, were they not?

He did not notice when his father had taken off his soft leather boots, but sudden he found himself being scooped up and tucked against his father's hip.

"Do you trust me?" his father asked.

Those words rarely boded anything good and Imrahil squinted at his father suspiciously before he gave a slow nod. His father always kept him safe. There was nothing to fear.

At least until Adrahil started going down the steps again.

Instantly panic bloomed in him and his heart seemed to fly. He made a keen whining sound and struggled to rise up in his father's arm, pressing back against the man's shoulder as if to get as far away from the sea as he could without literally crawling over his father's shoulder and running for it.

"Relax, relax. Just breathe. I have you, I promise."

Over and over his father repeated the soothing words, rubbing at his back when he could and periodically stopping on the stairs until at last he stepped out onto the sand.

The waves were big today, not overly so, but they rolled far up the beach, splashing up against the sea wall and throwing spray high into the air. Splatters of salt water periodically dripped down on them like rain.

Each droplet of water brought with it a flinch from the child who had stopped struggling, but exhibited so much distress that Adrahil stopped for fear Imrahil would have a full on panic attack or faint from hyperventilation.

Little panicked breaths puffed against his neck in rapid succession.

Imrahil was not sure how long they stood there. The sea roared and came at them again and again and each time he flinched back into his father and shied from it. In time, his pulled back less and less, but when Adrahil tried to take him closer, he would break into full panic.

Eventually as the sun rolled high overhead and noon had just passed, his father gave in and took him back inside.

The next day, Imrahil would not fall for the same trick.

"Oh really, it is not that bad. You know how much I would love to be out on the beach right now?"

"No!"

"Imrahil…"

"No!"

Adrahil pulled back from under Finduilas' bed. The second he had entered the room the boy had dove off his sister's bed and scrambled under it. For almost an hour now Adrahil had been trying to coax Imrahil out from under her bed, even so far as to offer to buy the boy a whole _shelf full_ of sea shell trinkets and delicately carved drift wood figures. Imrahil's silver eyes simply scowled at him fearfully as he scooted further back.

Even Finduilas had put on a smile and a sing song voice to coax her brother out, but he refused.

With a dramatic sigh, Adrahil stood and said loudly, "Well, I guess that is it then. I will have to give up." He stepped out of the room with heavy footfalls.

After a few hesitant moments, Imrahil shuffled to the edge of the bed and pulled up the bed skirt. "Is he gone no—AHH!"

A pair of hands reached and grabbed his ankles sliding him out from under the bed before he was swung up into big arms. He could hardly protest before his father had swept him out of the room and down the curving stairs of the palace. In front of the maids and servants he did not want to put up a big fuss. He was already ashamed of his nightmares that plagued him and often had him running to Finduilas or his father's room. Even Ivriniel had woken to a trembling body launching itself on her at full speed.

Once he was outside though and out of sight of members of his father's staff, he struck up full protest.

"Please no!" He pushed against his father with his arm.

Adrahil did not listen and continued down the stairs with a determined face. The waves were calmer today and he was able to step down the smooth shell crusted steps crafted into the sea wall. Imrahil had crawled practically over his shoulder to escape.

When his father's feet splashed into the water he let out a panicked cry. Adrahil stopped with a wince as Imrahil repeatedly cried out.

"Shush, shush shush shush. Calm _down_ Imrahil. It is okay! I swear to you! It is safe."

Imrahil would not listen and continued to struggle in his father's arms until he was completely worn out. It pained Adrahil to feel the race of that little heart against his shoulder, but he could not let his son's fear go on. They lived by the sea of Eru's sake. For the boy to grow up with a terrible fear of it would only cripple him in the end. He could not in good conscious leave the fate of Dol Amroth to a man terrified of the sea. It was fair to neither his son nor his people.

Bare legs laced with scabs and bound with cloth around still healing wounds locked tightly around Adrahil's waist as he repositioned the boy. There was no way he would get Imrahil down now without hurting him, but it was probably best. One thing at a time.

So Adrahil stood for hours, occasionally breaking the monotone by pacing up and down the surf. Once he bent down to splash water on the child and Imrahil had gone into a full fit. No amount of words seemed able to soothe the boy this time around and eventually Adrahil was forced to take him inside before the child hurt himself.

The nights were no better either. Mornings spent trying to tame his son's fear meant that Adrahil was faced with a near literal mountain of work come noon time. He opened the door to his study and stared balefully at the mound of work waiting for him.

Dol Amroth was a mess. It was a sea of disaster, if he were allowed a pun of such poor taste. There were hundreds upon hundreds of buildings in need of repair and some which needed to be rebuilt entirely. The only ships they had that were still in useable condition were their very largest and those that had been far out into the sea and the bay during the great wave. The shore was lined with broken hulls that needed to be removed. A few could be repaired. Most would need to be scrapped for rebuilding. The docks too were obliterated. Most of what remained of them was the broken stumps of pylons.

Then there were the bodies.

Every morning before anything else, particularly trying to lure Imrahil out, he scanned the shore for bodies. Still they were finding the dead washed up onto the shore. Many of them were utterly unrecognizable now with rot and bloat. He shuddered at the memories. There were so many to be identified and many more who simply could not be and were buried in unmarked graves. It had been decided with his councilors that a monument would be made for all the victims, identified and not.

He leant his head down and pressed it against the cool wood of his desk. He was only filled with immense gratitude that his son's name would not be among them like he had begun to fear. Adrahil felt near sick with relief.

Dinner was a hurried affair before Adrahil was back in his study leaving Imrahil to Ivriniel's care. He had lost track of time when there was a knock at the door. He glanced up and winced at the crick in his neck. Stiffly he rose to his feet and flexed out cramped fingers.

Ivriniel hovered at the door. "He is in bed now, but he is asking for you."

"Alright. Thank you Ivriniel." He smiled and pressed a kiss to her head. In her teenage years the girl was rather proud and independent and such signs of affection often brought embarrassment, but lately, she returned the affection in kind. Stress and fear, Adrahil had assumed. The damage done to her siblings in wake of the disaster had made her unsure. He felt one arm band around his waist in a hug before the girl quickly scampered off to her room.

Adrahil watched with a rueful smile. The temporary break in her willful independence streak was a nice change, though he wondered how long it would last.

When he entered Imrahil's room he found the child with every single candle or oil lamp in his room lit. The child himself was nothing but a quivering lump under the covers and Adrahil sighed sadly at the sight of him. This was going to be a long battle.

He eased himself onto the bed and rested his hand on the lump that was his son. Said lump gave a yelp and he smiled. Muffled words were lost in the covers.

"What was that Little Mouse?" Deft fingers found just the right spot and tickled at the lump mercilessly till Imrahil's head popped up from under the covers with a gasp and a giggle.

"Stop it!"

"Stop what?" Adrahil asked innocently. He smiled at the childish pout he received. A little hand darted up and across his neck and Adrahil laughed and ducked away from the child's revenge.

"Alright, alright to bed with you."

The words were met with an instant on set of stubbornness. Adrahil could recognize the hardening of that jaw anywhere. It was the same look his wife had gotten every time she had begun to dig her heels in. Of all the things his children had to inherit from his late wife, did it have to be her stubborn willfulness? Internally he braced himself for the battle to come.

"I am in bed."

"I see that. Come on, lay down. It is time to sleep."

"I'm not tired."

"Sure you are."

"Nope."

Adrahil tried not to roll his eyes. He pressed Imrahil back onto the bed and was glad the boy at least resigned himself to that. When he started to move around the room blowing out some of the candles, Imrahil bolted up again. "Oh! No! Don't do that!"

Lips pursed, Adrahil stopped in the middle and blinked bemused at his son as the flame flickered. Imrahil had never had trouble with the dark before. Why by the Valar did it have to start now, he wondered. On top of everything else it seemed a needless thing to lump on to their ill fate.

"You cannot leave all the candles lit Imrahil."

"Don't blow them out!"

Adrahil sighed. How did he explain to a child that they were very short on candles and lamp oil after the wave and that they need to use them sparingly? He set the candle back in the sconce and sat down again beside his son.

"Imrahil, we need to be careful with our candles."

The boy sunk down sullenly. Adrahil had a feeling he was trying to repress his shivers, but it was not working. "Why?" he asked.

"Well, right now there are a lot of people without candles, or even homes and we need all the candles we can get for them. We are still looking for people lost after that… storm, and they need the lamps to look for them. We lost a lot of our oil too after the water washed it away."

Guilt flashed across the child's face and he leaned against his father. "Oh…"

Guilt tripping the boy was not Adrahil's intention and he felt badly, but there was little else to be done for it.

"May I keep the two lamps on by my bed at least?" The question was timid and quiet in the flickering dark of the room.

With a ruffle of hair, Adrahil leaned over and gave the boy a squeeze. "Of course Little Mouse."

"Not a mouse," Imrahil grumbled, but his father only laughed and stood up so that he could tuck him in and darken the rest of the candles and lamps.

When Adrahil returned to his bed side to give him a last kiss goodnight he found a tiny fist clutched at his shirt.

"Papa… Do you have to go?"

"Yes, I do Imrahil. I have a lot of work that needs to be done to help others less fortunate than us." That little hand did not let go as Imrahil worked his best pleading look on his father. It just about worked, but slowly Adrahil uncurled his fingers from his shirt.

"Please!" Imrahil begged one last time, but a kiss was placed on his forehead and Adrahil stepped from the room quickly to hold whatever willpower he had left. The door shut with a click and on the other side he could hear a plaintive sound from the boy. He hovered by it for a moment half expecting it to open and his son to come running out after him, but it remained closed and he allowed himself a smile at his son's valiant attempt to be brave.

Of course, it could only last so long.

Hunched over his desk he froze for a moment when he thought he heard a scream. His brow furrowed as he tried to listen over the sound of the surf that hissed quietly outside his windows, but there was nothing. Only seconds after he had returned to work did he hear another followed by the patter of small feet. He was barely out of his chair when his door burst open and a small body launched itself at him. Adrahil sighed quietly as Imrahil clung to him and buried his face into his stomach.

"Hush now. There, there. You are safe with me Sea Star."

"The sharks were back and I got stuck in the water! I could not get my foot out!" Imrahil wailed muffled into his father's stomach.

Adrahil crouched down to hold the child to him and reassure him that no, there were no sharks, especially not in his room, and that he was safe at home now, not stuck out in the ocean any more. However, Imrahil refused to settle until Adrahil picked him up and sat him in his lap. The Lord of Dol Amroth stared at his paper work and then at the child curled in his lap half asleep.

Awkwardly he edged a piece of parchment towards himself and scribbled away until his arm began to cramp and tire. He set his pen down with a sound of frustration. This would not work at all. Several times he attempted to pry his son off and set him in his bed, but the little urchin clung tight. At last Adrahil had nothing left he could do but tug off his boots and lay in bed with the boy until he finally succumbed to sleep.

The next morning Adrahil woke bleary and exhausted to a half done pile of work that he knew would be stacked on top of what was to come today. He frowned down at the tiny sleeping body curled against his side. This could not keep happening.

That though, was a matter for later. He scooted Imrahil off to his room to change and before they broke their fast, he snatched his son up and made their fast becoming ritual trip down to the shore. He was pleased at least that Imrahil put up no protest until he stepped down from the sea wall.

"Please no. I don't want to go!"

Quiet refusals turned to pleas and then to frightened shouts as Adrahil waded into the water till it nearly lapped at his son's toes. At least, it would have lapped at his son's feet if the boy had not practically stood up in his arms and leant over his shoulder towards the shore.

"No!" he cried out and struggled.

Softly Adrahil twisted back and forth, rocking him as he hummed and tried to shush the child, but it seemed to do nothing to ease his distress. With one hand he leaned Imrahil against his shoulder and used the other to splash up water onto his son's leg. Some of his bandages became soaked, but it was a small thing. He had hoped that the touch of the water without pain would calm his son. Instead it seemed to send the boy into full panic.

Adrahil winced at the near shriek that Imrahil gave as the boy began to wail and hit at him with his arm. Whatever words of comfort Adrahil tried to give him were lost in his distress. Tremors wracked Imrahil's body as he sobbed against his father's shoulder.

"I want to go home! I want to go home! I don't want to be eaten! Let me go home!"

"Okay, alright. It is alright. Look, we're going back, see? We are going back to—" But Adrahil was barely out of the water by the time Imrahil finally broke free and dropped down to the sand and scrambled back towards the palace. He watched with a sad sigh as Imrahil stumbled up the steps and ran into the palace slamming the door behind him.

He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. How was he going to do this?


	8. Chapter 7 - Sandpipers

**A/N: And this chapter was created so I could pretend to live my dream of catching a sandpiper, but alas it has yet to be. Also realized this whole story is essentially me validating to myself why the ocean is pure evil and why I will never go again.**

Afternoon found Imrahil back in Finduilas' room for the first time since he had run out on her. The girl sat up in her bed with a look of anger as he scuffed his foot on the floor sheepishly.

"You…" she growled.

Imrahil ducked back. He knew well that Finduilas rarely got very angry, but when she did… you were best off taking cover. While Ivriniel had gotten their mother's willful streak and their father said Imrahil had gotten her stubbornness, Finduilas had been the one to inherit her temper. Sweet and gentle one minute, a volcano the next if you stumbled across those rare few triggers that set her off.

Apparently he had stumbled into a nest of trap wires.

"Do you… Have you any… Ooooooh! Imrahil!"

It was official. He was dead. He had been convinced it was the sea that would kill him, but he had been wrong. Ulmo's fury had nothing on that of a sister.

"Do you realize how worried I was!? You ran off like that out of the blue and I thought I did something to upset you! Then you don't come see me for two whole days! I thought you were never going to speak to me again or that you thought I was a freak or a cripple not worth your time! And now you have the audacity to just waltz on in here like there's nothing wrong in the world and everything is just dandy and fine and you can just—"

"I love you."

The words were blurted out quick and loud. Finduilas cut off mid rant and squared him with a suspicious look. Such admonitions of love were usually heralds to favor requests. Slowly her arms crossed and Finduilas lifted one brow in a very good impression of their father when Imrahil found himself up to his neck in trouble.

"Well?"

Imrahil scuffed the toe of his soft soled boot against the floor again. What if FInduilas was not so forgiving as father? What if she did blame him for what happened? There was no way to find out but to ask. He took a deep breath.

"I saw your legs and I thought… if you can never walk again…" He bit his lip. "It's my fault. I was stupid and pushed you and led you down the beach and then when you called me to come back I didn't listen at first and was too slow in coming back when you were trying to get me to hurry because the water was coming in and you almost died and now you could be stuck in bed forever and—" His words came so swiftly they began to almost blend into one another, becoming indistinguishable.

"Slow down, slow down," Finduilas urged him. The anger had bled out of her voice and it made Imrahil relax, but he still would not look at her, afraid of the accusation he would find in her eyes.

"When I saw your legs I ran because… because I thought you would be angry at me and blame me for what happened because it's my fault you're hurt." Over time the tone of his voice had grown soft and warbled faintly with the onset of tears. He squeezed his eyes against the burning. No, he told himself, he was a big boy and he would be responsible for what he did.

There was quiet though from his sister and slowly one eye eased open and peeked up at her. He was taken aback by the surprise on her face. With one hand she motioned him towards the bed and after a tentative glance, Imrahil edged forward. He was invited up with a pat on the covers. Mindful of his sister's condition, he slowly eased himself up onto the bed and sat.

Not at all had he expected the sudden pair of arms that wrapped around him and pulled him into a tight hug.

"What?" He tried to squirm around to get a look at his sister, but she held him tight, her face pressed into his shoulder.

"I'm not mad at you," she whispered. His face twisted in bemusement. "And I don't blame you either," she added after a moment.

"But… Why?"

Finduilas sat up then and when he looked at her she was smiling, her face flushed in embarrassment. "Because to be honest? I was blaming myself for what happened to you."

She gave a watery laugh when his mouth popped open in surprise. He did not squirm this time when she squeezed him to her side again. "When I woke up in the street and I couldn't move I was scared, but when I realized you were gone? I kept calling for you and you did not answer and I thought I had lost you and I was so mad at myself for letting go of you. I kept telling myself that you would be at the palace when they brought me back… But then you were not there and I—" her voice cut off with a warble that sounded as though she might cry.

If there was anything worse than his sister being angry it was seeing her cry. He always felt so at a loss for what to do or say and if he was the one to make her cry it was ten times worse. Quickly he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed hoping to keep the tears at bay. "I'm sorry. I'm okay though now, see?" He waved his broken arm. "It's almost better. Sort of…"

There was a scoff over head and he was jostled in good humor. Heavily, Finduilas sighed. "I kept waiting every day for someone to come in and tell me that they had found you… That you were okay… But one day and then two, then four. By day five I was starting to think you would never come back. When I woke up after the sixth day and I heard you had been brought back and no one had woke me up? Oh… Ivriniel refused to come in my room for days. Not until you woke up."

Imrahil grinned impishly. He wished he had seen that.

"It's not your fault… I should have come sooner when you called me."

Finduilas hummed low in her throat. "Perhaps, but then, I should have seen the danger sooner and ran with you. I think though, either way, there was no way for us to escape. Almost the entirety of the lower level of the city is in ruins. There are still hundreds missing let alone those that are…" She trailed off, but Imrahil understood. He recalled the dead body trapped in the debris with him and shivered. He wondered who that was and if their family was still looking for them even now.

Imrahil took his lessons in Finduilas' room that day. The entirety of the lesson the tutor had kept the balcony doors open and not once did Imrahil flinch and the thrum or splash of the sea.

Night time of course was another matter.

Imrahil put up little fuss when his father extinguished all but two of his lights, but when he tried to leave the room Imrahil begged for him to stay. Adrahil wanted to say no. There was a pile of work waiting for him and he had hardly slept lately and of course there were notes to jot down for the meeting and there was—But he made the fatal mistake of looking into those wide silver eyes and he sighed. Perhaps he would have time later.

He perched beside Imrahil who half crawled into his lap. "One story, and one only. Alright?" The boy nodded eagerly, but Adrahil knew the begging would come back when he was finished.

He certainly was not wrong.

"Don't go! Please!"

"Imrahil… You will be fine!"

"No! The sharks will get me!"

It was hard not to laugh at that and Imrahil was not pleased to see his father trying to smother a smile. "Imrahil… You are inside. Sharks cannot get you in here. They need water."

The words did little to reassure Imrahil and he sank down under the covers till only his eyes were visible. "But the dead people…"

Adrahil sighed. He rose up and carded his hand through his son's hair, rubbing at his scalp until Imrahil was leaning into the pleasing touch. "There are no dead people. The dead are still. They do not rise up and come after people."

"That's not true," came a muffled reply. "Wights."

Adrahil puffed a breath that made his hair flutter. There was no way he could not give the boy that. Still, he refused to surrender the argument. "There are no wights here, I promise you that. And," he added, "if there were I certainly would not let them in Dol Amroth to get you or anyone else."

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise. No wights."

This time, Imrahil let his father leave the room, though he looked awfully unhappy about it. He kept himself entirely cocooned in blankets with only a pair of silver eyes peeking out.

The silver of Imrahil's irises were nearly drowned out by his pupils, dilated wide in fear. Over and over he scanned the room. Whenever the flames of his lamps flickered he twitched nervously. He could not shut his eyes. Never. If he did the dead would creep out from under his bed, from under his dresser, and out from the closet to come for him.

He was unaware of when his breathing had picked up. Even covered by the blanket it sounded loud in the quiet dark. The hiss of the sea brought no comfort. It sounded as though the dead seethed in hate, no unlike that surly barn cat in the royal stables. If he listened close enough he could hear the sharks splashing as they lay in wait for him when his father would take him out in the morning.

He squeezed his eyes shut. He could hear them, those scaly monsters. Hissing a laugh amongst themselves. They thought he was stupid, that he would just let his father set him down in the water, but he knew better. They might have been too scared to attack Adrahil, but they had no qualms about him he was sure. He was still too little, barely able to wield a practice sword.

There was a creak of wood and the sea seemed to roar. He flinched. This was it. The dead had opened the door to let the water in and the sharks would come attracted by the horrible smell that filled his nose and choked him. The palace would flood and his door would burst with the water and the sharks would come in heralded by the smell of death to devour him.

He felt water trickle down his face and he gasped. They were in the room with him! The sea roared again and the light flickered as the water rose up to swamp him and rip him from his bed.

With a strangled cry he bolted up from his bed, his breathing loud and harsh. Sweat and tears trickled across his skin as his eyes, nearly black with fear, darted over the room. The water was gone, but he knew it was just a trick. A shadow flickered by the closet and he scrambled out of his bed and threw himself at his door. He tore it open and bolted down the hall.

"PAPA!"

Adrahil was in the door way of his study before Imrahil had barely run into his sitting room. He flung himself at his father and clung tight as the man sank down on his knees to embrace him. A warm hand smoothed over his hair and soft cloth dabbed at the tears on his face.

"There there. It is alright."

Slowly his harsh gasps and hiccups ebbed into soft breath and he took in his father's soothing scent of sandalwood. He pressed his face against his father's chest as the man started to nudge him back towards his room.

"Imrahil…"

"No," he whimpered.

A whoosh of warm breath skimmed over his scalp. "You cannot do this every night my son." There was a stubborn silence that did not bode well. A few more strokes of his father's large hand over his back and he asked, "What happened?"

Imrahil shivered with relief as his father picked him up and took him back into his father's bedroom. His voice started off small and quiet, "There was water in my room and—"

"You left your doors open? … It's not raining."

"No…" Imrahil admitted. "But the sea was in the palace. There was a flood and it was coming up the stairs and it got into my room and let the sharks in and I could smell the bodies!" As he spoke his voice grew louder with his distress until he hiccupped a sob against his father's shoulder.

He was tucked against the man's chest as his father eased back onto his bed and pulled the covers over both of them. There was a pile of paper work on his father's desk and he flinched guiltily, but Adrahil simply pulled his head down to his chest.

"There are no sharks Sea Star and no bodies. Did I not tell you this?"

"Yes," Imrahil admitted pathetically. "But the wave came back and it got in the palace."

A nose nuzzled into his hair and a tired voice murmured, "There is no wave and the palace is perfectly dry."

"I guess so…"

There was a quiet chuckle. "I know so. Sleep now."

"You'll watch for sharks?"

"Yes, I will watch for sharks."

"Okay. Night papa."

"Night Little Mouse."

Everything was peaceful and right in the world. It was warm, dark, soft, cozy, and there was the faint twitter of bird song broken up by his father's periodic snores.

The bed thumped.

In a heartbeat Imrahil was up. He could pick out that horrible smell and hear the rattle of the shells on his bedroom shelf. The wood was breaking away and soon he would be in the water and they would get him and tear off his limbs. His mouth opened and he let out a terrified scream.

Behind him Adrahil bolted up and he hardly noticed when Ivriniel hopped off the bed in alarm.

Strong arms held him tight as an angry voice snapped, "Ivriniel!"

"I am sorry! I only sat on the bed! I did not think he would _scream!_" she shouted back, eyes wide in shock.

The scream cut off as the world cleared and turn into something else. Imrahil blinked and glanced around rapidly taking in the soft light of the morning, his father's dresser, and his sister still in her nightgown and over robe.

"Are you alright Imrahil?"

His father's voice made him jump. He glanced back over his shoulder to see a pair of sleepy gray eyes watching him in concern.

He certainly felt alright he supposed. His arm was sore, as were his legs, but he did not feel bitten. He lifted up the sheets and poked his head under. Nope, no shark bites. There was a sound of amusement from his father and he felt fingers dart up his side. With a stifled giggle he darted under the covers to escape, but his father grabbed his ankles and pulled him back out.

"Hey!"

"Oh no you do not. It's breakfast."

Food did sound good he supposed. His stomach rumbled in agreement. When he edged off the bed he almost bumped into Ivriniel and he blinked and scooted back. She eyed him for a moment before she dared asking, "What was that about? Bad dream?"

Somewhat embarrassed by his uncontrollable fear, Imrahil flushed and twisted his foot. "I thought you were a shark."

The girl huffed and stuck her fists on her hips. There was a faint teasing light to her eyes though that put Imrahil at ease. "Do I look like a shark to you?"

"Well… Sometimes in the mornings…"

Adrahil's laughter followed them when Imrahil took off down the hall with his sister hot on his heels.

That morning Imrahil and Ivriniel had managed to work together to convince their father to hold breakfast in Finduilas' room. Adrahil cringed as he watched Imrahil messily eat a piece of toast and if the boy got some sense of amusement watching his father suck in his breath when he moved sticky fingers towards his sister's bed, he would never admit it.

He was however willing to admit his displeasure when his father took him outside for their morning ritual.

"Please no."

"Come on Imrahil it's a beautiful day outside! You see the sandpipers? If you go in the water with me I can help you try to catch one."

It was a tempting offer. Imrahil eyed the zippy little birds that darted up and down the beach picking at small critters for their own breakfast. It was game of his to try and catch one, though he never had a hope of managing it. But still, was getting to pet a sandpiper worth being eaten by a shark?

"Definitely not."

His father blinked in surprise at his matter of fact tone. "That was a big word. Not even for a sandpiper?"

"If I say no do I still have to go?"

There was a telling silence and Imrahil sunk down in his father's arms. He gave a sigh and flopped his chin on his father's shoulder in resignation.

Down the stairs and over the sea wall Imrahil managed to contain himself until the water splash around his father's ankles. The shaking started after that. He did try, really, but the distorted reflections on the water looked awfully like pale shapes darting among the waves and the water was not clear enough to see the bottom.

His father bounced him on his hip, but quickly stopped when Imrahil made a frightened sound and tightened his hold.

Deeper and deeper his father went. First his ankles then up his shins and over his knees until the bottom of his rolled up leggings became soaked. The water splashed up with each roll of a wave and tickled the bottoms of Imrahil's feet. He found the sensation less than laugh worthy though.

To his credit he did not cry or wail or even plead. Back and forth his father rocked him and hummed as he shook and took rapid breaths. Over and over he wondered if this was good enough, if he had behaved long enough that they could go in. Just when he thought he might snap and scream to go home, his father turned and began to wade back to the shore, his steps staggered by the push of the water.

"There, see? No sharks."

Imrahil just nodded wide eyed and edged away from the water that flowed up the beach. A tug of his hand and as promised, Adrahil led him down the beach to the sandpipers.

Fear was quickly forgotten for excitement instead. The little birds bobbed their heads and watched them with cautious beady eyes.

"Alright, now you stay here and I'll try and circle around to flank them. Okay?"

Eagerly Imrahil nodded.

"When I give the command, you start making your way towards me and with any luck we can pin them between us, the water, and the sea wall and maybe we can get one, hm?"

With a smile Imrahil nodded again and bounced on the balls of his feet.

Adrahil crept away and climbed over the sea wall, slinking along behind it to stay out of sight of the birds as best he could. Imrahil giggled at the man's awkward creeping crouch. Watching the little birds take turns eyeing him and snatching up tiny mollusks and crabs almost took his mind off the water. Without his father nearby though, it was harder and harder not to want to get on the other side of the sea wall. Still, the promise of a chance to pet a bird held him still even if he could not help but wiggle in anxiety.

The birds were on to them. That much was for sure. Several of them straightened and went stiff as Adrahil emerged from behind the sea wall to circle behind them. One gave a warble of warning and those pecking at the sand stopped and popped their heads up.

Imrahil bit his lip.

His father motioned to him then and he crept forward slowly as to not startle the birds too soon into flight. His movement attracted them and the birds swung to watch him with beady black eyes instead. One bird gave a suspicious warble.

Then as he moved, they began to move too. Slowly the flock of long legged birds started to trot in the other direction, not particularly alarmed by the child, at least until they turned and found Adrahil had crept up on them from behind.

Wings spread and Imrahil bolted forward. Too slow though, the child missed them as the birds took to the air. Adrahil reached out to grab at one, but the birds were too swift and he missed. Far from discouraged, Imrahil laughed at how ridiculous his father looked hopping up after birds and took off down the beach after the little animals.

Safe in their ability to escape the birds had landed several meters away and were scuttling along the beach again when Imrahil ran up. There was an annoyed cry from the birds and they took off again to circle around, but Imrahil was pleased to note his father not far behind to cut them off. Again though, he missed.

Together the pair of them bolted up and down the beach laughing at the stubborn birds who continually moved back and forth along the beach refusing to leave such prime feeding grounds. Imrahil yelped as a bird nearly crashed into his head and spun laughing as he spotted his father shuffling along the beach after a pair of particularly lazy birds who seemed to deem that they were not much of a threat.

It was much to Imrahil's surprise, along with Adrahil and the bird's, when the man actually managed to nab one. Imrahil's eyes grew wide as he watched his father blink in surprise at the bird that wiggled and flapped in his grip. Quickly Adrahil folded its wings in and tucked it against his chest, wincing as it pecked hard at his thumb.

"Ouch. Hey hey hey. Shhhh there. Shhhh."

Cautious, Imrahil approached.

"Slowly," his father warned. "No need to terrify the little thing anymore than need be." It kicked furiously in his grip and he narrowly avoided a good scratch from its claws. When Imrahil got closer it fell still.

The bird eyed him in fear and the boy felt a pang of guilt. He had not thought this far before about catching one. His father crouched down low and stroked his thumb along the bird's breast. As light as he could manage, Imrahil gently touched the bird's feathers, stroking along the crest of its head and down its neck. To his surprise the bird did not peck and he grew a little bolder and stroked down the length of its back.

He did so three times before he stepped back. "We should let him go. He looks scared."

Adrahil smiled. "I would imagine so. I think you would be frightened too if a big troll or a giant snatched you up."

The words made him smile. "I think so too."

"Alright, step back a bit."

Imrahil did so as his father twisted around on his knees and slowly held the bird out and then quickly let go when its feet touched the beach. Immediately the bird took to the air with an alarmed call and Imrahil leaned up against his father as they watched the entire flock take to the sky and moved far down the beach.

**A/N: ****Don't worry, I know that sharks are not actually scaly. Imrahil on the other hand well…**


	9. Chapter 8 - A Gift for Finduilas

"And then I got to pet it!" Imrahil boasted proudly.

"That's nice."

The boredom carried heavy in his sister's voice and Imrahil frowned as Finduilas stared despondently out the windows. He chewed on his lip nervously. He had not thought his sister might be upset with him for the story.

"You don't like it?"

Finduilas blinked and turned her eyes to him. "No it's not that I just…" Voice heavy with frustration she let out a sigh that was more of a growl. Her hands slapped against her covers.

"I am just sick of being stuck in here. My hips hurt from laying here all the time and Feniras is worried Iwill get sores and that is on top on if I will ever be able to walk again and I cannot get or do anything on my own and it is _so_ embarrassing whenever I have to go to the—" She cut off with a flush and a frown. "You get the idea."

"Oh…" Imrahil sank down in guilt. Nervously he swung his legs and flinched when he accidentally kicked the bed, but Finduilas did not even seem to notice. She glared at the window.

For a while they sat there in a tense silence. A few times Imrahil tried to start up a conversation, but his sister would only grunt, hum, or give one word answers when neither of the former would do. He offered to read to her and she snapped, "I am not five."

She flinched in guilt when Imrahil hung his head. After a moment she said, "I am sorry. You did not deserve that I just… I would like to be alone for a while. Please."

Subdued he nodded and scooted off his chair, pushing it back to the corner. When he was almost out the door he paused, his eyes lighting up as he was struck with an idea. Finduilas seemed startled when Imrahil suddenly spun around in the door frame.

"What's your favorite sea animal?"

Taken a back she squinted at him. "… Why?"

"Just curious."

The innocence of his tone did not appear to be working as she still looked rather suspicious, but slowly she answered, "Sea turtles… But what does that have to do with any—"

"Okay! Bye!"

A sharp turn on his heel and he was out the door with Finduilas shouting after him. "Hey wait! What are you—Imrahil!"

In under a minute he was in his father's study. Adrahil glanced up at him from his work as he blurted, "May we go outside please?"

Adrahil frowned and glanced at the window. It was barely past noon, but the amount of work he had waiting for him and of course the meeting that afternoon… "You are allowed out on the palace grounds you know, so long as you stay within the gardens."

If only it were the gardens it would have been easy. Imrahil scuffed his toe on the floor and ignored the way his father frowned at the bad habit. "I wanted to get something from the beach."

"Ah." Adrahil sat back. "I am sorry, but I have a lot of work to catch up on Imrahil. You will have to wait until the morning."

The morning would not do however and Imrahil shook his head. "But I wanted to make something for Fin… I can't wait until the morning."

A frustrated look passed across his father's face. That did not bode well and Imrahil could sense he was losing the battle. His father seemed to think for a bit and started as if to say no and then sighed at the wide silver eyes that watched him. "You can ask Meri—"

His father cut off with a click of his teeth as he snapped his jaw shut, but it was too late, Imrahil already knew what he had intended to say and hung his head.

Quickly, his father tried to amend his statement, "Well… I suppose I can see if Amenas would not mind."

Amenas however, was not father, and thus not immune to sharks.

"But I wanted you to go…"

"Imrahil… It is Amenas or you cannot go at all. I have work that has to be done and it cannot wait until later."

A mutinous sense welled in Imrahil, but he pressed it down. Were this for himself perhaps he would fight it, but this was for Finduilas though and he was old enough now to sense when his father would and would not cave.

"Alright," he gave in sullenly.

"See if you cannot find Amenas and ask him _nicely_ if he would be willing to escort you to the beach."

Imrahil nodded and hurried out of the room. Servants frowned or smiled variously as he ran passed and repeatedly poked his head into different rooms calling out for Amenas. He found him at last outside in the front yard for the palace near the guard hut. Somewhat nervous and shy of the big man, he approached slowly. The guards seemed surprised to see him and a few smiled.

Amenas was a rather large man broad of shoulder with a short trimmed blonde that Imrahil had decided was far too prickly to be safe. When he grew up he hoped he did not get a beard.

"Hello Prince Imrahil. What are you doing out here?"

This close now, Imrahil could see the set of scratches that raked down Amenas' temple and across his cheek. The sight of it made him cringe. Would Amenas be angry at him and say no to his request? That had not occurred to him before, but now he started to wonder.

"Hello Amenas. I'm… I'm sorry about your face. I did not mean to scratch you. I don't remember that."

The seneschal however did not seem put off and he smiled warmly at the boy. "There is nothing to forgive."

"Um, father wanted me to ask if you would be willing to take me down to the beach to get something?"

Amenas traded a look with a pair of the guards that Imrahil could not interpret, but he thought perhaps that it did not look to bode well for him. After a few quietly traded words though, Amenas turned back to him with a nod. "I can escort you if your father wishes."

"Thank you."

Amenas nodded and Imrahil quickly hurried off. The sooner he got to the beach the sooner he could leave and the less he would trouble Amenas. The seneschal kept up with easy strides that covered two of Imrahil's hurried steps with ease. He made no complaint as the child wound around the palace and down to the shore, nor did he comment when Imrahil froze and eyed the water warily.

Never had he been on the beach without his father since he had been stuck out at sea.

"Is something wrong?" Amenas asked him.

Imrahil rapidly shook his head, but the seneschal did not look convinced. He stood for another minute before he gave a soft whine and plunged ahead down the beach. Over the sea wall he crawled, sticking one foot out and poking at the sand at its base before he slowly eased down onto the other side and tensed waiting for the water to rush up and swallow him. It only lapped quietly at the sand meters away.

He watched it a little while longer before he was convinced that the sea was willing to behave under Amenas' watchful eye. The man followed him with curious amusement as the Prince hunted up and down the beach for something. A few times he picked up shells, but tossed them away. A few pieces of drift wood soon joined them in a pile of rejection.

"If I may ask… What are you looking for my Prince?"

"Are there green sea shells?"

Amenas blinked down at him at the sudden veer. "Um… Not that I can recall having seen before on our shores… We have some that are almost black in color though, if that helps any. Most are white or pale gray, but we have a few that are streaked with purple or indigo."

"Black is fine." And Imrahil rushed off again, occasionally pausing to scoop at sand and dig up shells. Behind him Amenas followed with a bemused shake of his head.

At last though, Imrahil found what he was looking for. He held up a fat chunk of drift wood in triumph and cupped several fragments of green shell long worn smooth by the water.

"Look! There are green shells," he presented proudly. Amenas smiled at him even as he started to press the boy back towards the palace.

"So there are. Come on then."

Imrahil was only too happy to get back to the palace and away from the water. He left Amenas at the front doors of the palace and quickly hurried upstairs with his prizes. There was no protest from Adrahil as he edged into his father's study and set his findings on a second desk half covered in papers.

Not until Imrahil was at his side and working his best wide eyed stare did Adrahil look up.

"May I borrow your carving knife?"

His father frowned. "I do not think that that is a good idea."

Instantly Imrahil's face fell. "But I need to borrow it to make something." His father eyed the chunk of drift wood on the desk not far away. His face twisted as he seemed to sway between the right thing to do.

"Please papa?"

Adrahil pressed his lips together for half a moment before he rose up and went into his bedroom. With his back turned he did not see the small hop of success Imrahil did before he quickly stilled himself back into an image of pure politeness. Even so, Adrahil still looked suspicious of his suddenly perfect behavior.

He started to hand the bone handled knife to Imrahil and then stopped. The child's hand hovered in the air as he looked to his father bemused.

"I will let you borrow this, but on one condition."

Imrahil nodded quickly.

"You must be extremely careful and _never_ cut towards your hand, always cut away from it." He started to hand it to Imrahil again before he pulled it back once more. "And never hack with it or press the blade to your hand or run with it or leave the room with it," he added quickly.

Imrahil's lips pursed. "That's five conditions." The warning look his father gave him hushed him immediately.

"Promise?" Adrahil asked.

None of the conditions seemed like anything impossible to Imrahil, indeed after his father's hesitation it almost seemed too easy, but he nodded all the same. "Yes. I promise."

The knife was handed over with some trepidation and Imrahil made a show of holding it very carefully. "Thank you."

A large hand ruffled his hair making him wrinkle his face as he rushed to fix the mess, a rather impossible task with a knife in one hand and the other arm broken. Imrahil floundered between the two hands for a moment before he gave an exasperated puff of air that ruffled the dark locks that fell into his face. His father sat back at his desk with a smile. "You are welcome."

For a while Imrahil sat at the desk and simply stared at the wood. He knew what he wanted to do and he had the materials, but how did he go about doing it. He frowned and traced the patterns carved in the knife sheathe. It had not occurred to him that it might be hard to bring his concept into reality. The knife's handle was smooth in his hand and he stared somewhat dazzled at the well polished blade.

With careful strokes he slowly began to chip away at the wood. It was hard to do so with only his left hand and often he found himself stuck in frustration. Imrahil's brow furrowed as he studied the wood in consternation. He waited for the ache in his right arm to dull before he carefully rested his right palm on the wood and began to tediously cut away at the wood once more.

The light airy drift wood was easier to cut than he had imagined, but periodically little bits would splinter off and he frowned at it. Flustered he tried to accommodate for it, but in the end he was left with a chip out of it. He stared at the crude wooden turtle in his hand with a little hole in its front right fin. If Finduilas asked, he would just say it was sharks. No one could trust a shark.

The turtle was dubbed a war hero in Imrahil's mind as he started at the nub on its back perplexed. Long ago there was perhaps a branch that had attached to it, but it had been snapped off and worn down over time.

One way and then the other, Imrahil tilted his head as he studied it. Suddenly his face brightened and he bent down to carve once again.

Finished at last he held it up for inspection. A large turtle stared at him, two little nicks for eyes, and perched on its back where there had once been a nub, there was now a tiny turtle riding on it's shell.

Knife slotted, Imrahil set the wood down and scrambled off the chair. He slid the knife across his father's desk. "May I have some glue please?"

His father looked at him with a hint of exasperation and Imrahil tried to ignore the quick glance at his hand as his father checked him for cuts. "I suppose… Ask Henna. She will know where it is."

The Prince wrinkled his nose, but left the room before his father could change his mind. The Mistress of Events, Henna, was not one of his favorite people. She was polite of course, everyone was polite to the Lord's family, but he could tell she was not very fond of him. Indeed, Henna did not seem fond of any child.

He found her after almost an hour later in the kitchen organizing food to be prepared and sent out to the families still without homes. She visibly restrained a scowl when she turned and spotted him a few feet away waiting patiently.

"Yes, Prince Imrahil? Do you need something?"

"Henna, may I borrow some glue? Father said you would be the best person to ask." It never hurt to throw his father's name in there just in case she got any ideas.

Her lips pursed tightly. "What do you need glue for?"

"I am trying to make something for Finduilas so she feels better."

Henna soften at that. She turned and murmured something to one of her aids. "Just follow Lithiel. She will show you where it is kept. Just make sure to put it back, _sealed_, when you are done." It was hard to miss the emphasis when she glared at him like that. He nodded wide eyed and meek and quickly followed Lithiel, eager to be out of the room. Henna was scary sometimes.

Lithiel took him down several side passages that were devoid of the palace's usual gilding. The narrow servants passages took them around a few bends before she finally stopped at a supply closet she stood up onto her tip toes and then plucked down a small brown jar covered with a thick cloth.

"Here you go my Lord." She smiled as she handed it to him. "When you put it back there is a stool tucked under the bottom shelf if you cannot reach it and if you need help, just ask. I'm sure someone would be happy to help." With a curtsy she led him back to the main hallway before she returned to her duties. Imrahil eyed the entrance to the servant's quarters nervously. He was unsure if he could remember the way back when he was finished with the borrowed glue.

The heavy weight of the jar in his hand pushed it from his mind. There would be time to worry about that later. For now he needed to finish.

In moments he had scampered back up to his father's study and plopped back into the chair to begin gluing the shells onto the turtle's backs. With a brush tied to the jar he carefully dabbed at his work and pressed the shells on one at a time until at last, his masterpiece was complete. He sat back and stared at it pleased. Loudly he blew at it until he was sure the hide glue was dry enough for him to pick it up safely.

"Papa look!" He bounced on his feet at Adrahil's side, holding his carving up proudly.

His father took it with almost exaggerated care and he smiled as he turned it over in his hands. "You made this all on your own? With only your left hand?"

Imrahil nodded eagerly, then paused. "Well… I used my right hand to hold it still on the desk… But I did all the carving with my left!" He rubbed fitfully at his cast. "It aches though."

"You should be careful using your right arm. You might hurt yourself again," his father warned, but still the man looked impressed and his son's work. It was a bit jagged and one fin was rather small compared to the others, but it was crafted well.

The more Imrahil turned it over in his hands and looked at it though, the more he frowned. Adrahil watched him quietly until at last the boy made a soft sigh. "What's wrong?"

"Mmm, it's missing something," Imrahil muttered as he studied it.

"Missing something? They look like a rather fine pair of turtles to me."

"It's not enough."

"Not enough?"

Imrahil nodded and his brow furrowed in thought. A sudden gasp of excitement startled his father. "Oh! May I have a glass jar?"

"Imrahil…"

"Please! It's for Fin! She's very sad."

Just as he had hoped, his father could not turn that down and he slowly nodded. Emboldened, Imrahil decided to push his luck. "And later could I go back out to get stones from the shore?"

This time it seemed he had pushed too far. Adrahil thumped his hand on his desk. "No Imrahil. That's enough. People around here are very busy helping people who are hurt. They don't have time to run errands like this."

"But Fin—"

"_No Imrahil_."

Sharp, the tone cut and Imrahil dropped his head hurt. His lip wobbled faintly as he realized he may have even ruined his chance to get a jar. He tugged at his hair to hide his face, embarrassed to have his father catching him being a baby again.

There was quiet as a childish part of him still hoped his father would take in his downcast appearance and change his mind.

"I'm sure Finduilas will be happy with your carving just the way it is."

That had not been what he was hoping to hear at all. Over and over he told himself not to stamp his foot or raise his voice. He had been told over and over again that that was not a 'Princely' thing to do and how it was a sign of disrespect. It was so hard though and it certainly was not fair, he thought in spite.

He stood in silence until he heard the scratch of his father's quill as the Lord Prince went back to work. Feet dragged as Imrahil took himself back to the other desk and sat down. The pair of turtles turned over in his hands. They were nice he knew and father probably was right, Fin would like them, but he had wanted it to be extra special.

The afternoon passed in continued sullen silence and as the sun had begun to sink down and dinner approached, Adrahil finally set down his quill. He rose and stretched, all barely noticed by Imrahil who sat tracing patterns along the wood grain of the desk, his chin propped despondently on the edge of it. Not even when a hand rested on his head did he move.

His father crouched next to him and Imrahil dared to glance at him. "Are you mad at me?" Adrahil asked.

It was tempting to lie and just say he was not feeling well, but Adrahil had always emphasized the importance of honesty with his children. If he had any hope, Imrahil knew it was best to be honest.

"Yes," he whispered.

There was no surprise on his father's face. The hand on his head slid down to the back of his neck, fingers rubbing at the tense muscles there. "Because I said no?"

Imrahil nodded awkwardly, not bothering to lift his chin from the wood.

"Do you know why?"

Again, the child nodded, but before his father could simply say that was that and end the discussion, he surged ahead. "I know you say everyone is busy trying to help hurt people, but isn't Fin hurt too? I'm trying to make her feel better."

The argument seemed to have some effect as Adrahil looked somewhat taken aback. Encouraged, Imrahil kept going, his voice growing louder as he started to lose his fight against tears.

"Fin's scared and sad because of her legs and she doesn't think she'll walk again and I just wanted to make her feel better by giving her something to look at besides the stupid window."

"Imrahil—"

"She's quiet and she doesn't want to talk anymore and she's very grumpy."

"Imrahil I—"

"I thought you would be happy I wanted to go outside near the water…" Imrahil whispered with a small sniff. He opened his mouth again and jumped when his father covered it.

"Imrahil, enough enough. Hush my child."

This was it. His father was going to say no and he would be sent off to bed without dinner for talking back. Maybe he could at least get his father to let him give Finduilas her turtles before he had to go to bed.

His father tapped their foreheads together and the boy blinked wide. A thumb brushed wet tracks away on his face. "I was going to say," his father said quietly with a hint of a smile, "that for waiting so patiently and quietly all day without throwing a tantrum that I would take you out after dinner and see about that jar of yours."

Wide eyes stared at Adrahil in shock. That had not been at all what he was expecting. A flood of excitement washed through him and Imrahil practically threw himself at his father. The man toppled back with a laugh as the child pounced on his chest. "Thank you thank you thank you thank you!"

"Alright!" Adrahil sat up and pushed Imrahil down. "Alright. You have to eat everything at dinner though. _Regardless_ if you like it or not," he added when Imrahil wrinkled his nose.

Dinner was rushed and Imrahil sat impatiently shifting in his seat until his father was done. True to his word though Adrahil led him to the shore after stopping to help him set the glue back and pick up a jar. It was well in the end as the child had some trouble with the jar after he started adding a multitude of polished stones into the glass container.

"May I ask what you are doing?" His father asked as he watched Imrahil squeak and shy away from the water that rolled in with the tide. The jar was left to fend for itself as the water lapped at it.

When the water had moved away again Imrahil scrambled forward and grabbed the jar with one hand to drag it further up the shore to the sea wall. "It's a secret," he said distracted as he repeatedly had to dart in and snatch up stones between waves. Adrahil did not seem to want to press him to touch the water and he was happy for that.

"I cannot know even after taking you outside?"

Imrahil pressed his lips together at that. He studied his father were closely. "You have to promise not to tell."

The man crossed his heart with a smile and after a moment's more scrutiny, Imrahil climbed up onto the sea wall with a bit of struggle. He whispered into his father's ear and Adrahil looked pleased. "That sounds very nice indeed. Finduilas will like that very much I think."

When the jar was almost a third of the way full Imrahil tugged his father's sleeve. "Could you please carry it? I can't get it with one hand…" He frowned at his cast as his father scooped up the stone and shell filled jar. When they were nearly back Imrahil suddenly peeled way with an excited sound. He bent and snatched something up and ran back to Adrahil. His father lowered the jar for him as his request and he shifted the stones around carefully to stick in a pair of branching drift wood pieces.

"There!" he said with a pleased smile at his handiwork.

"Do you not want to get water from the sea before we go?"

Imrahil turned and eyed the sea before he shook his head. "Too murky. May we use well water please?"

"I suppose," Adrahil acquiesced.

A stop by the well and then a trip to Adrahil's study again so Imrahil could snatch up the turtles. Quiet they crept to Finduilas' room and Imrahil poked his head in. His sister was awake, but kept her face turned to the window.

"Fin?"

"Go away," she sighed.

Imrahil frowned, but crept in anyway moving around to the other side of her bed to distract her while their father stepped into the room. Adrahil moved silently as Finduilas settled a displeased look on her brother. He set the heavy jar down on Finduilas' night stand. The thump made her brow furrow and she turned.

"Imrahil I said—" Her voice trailed away as she caught sight of the jar. "What…?"

Stones of white, black, tan, and even hints of blue and tiny purple and green dove and cockle shells filled the bottom. It had been hard to find unbroken shells. The pieces of drift wood were held tightly by the stones and stood proudly in the water like pieces of coral. The jar was filled with water until only two inches from the top where Imrahil's drift wood turtles floated and bobbed at the surface.

His quiet voice broke the shocked silence. "Tada."

"You… made this?" She glanced back at him.

Proudly he nodded with a smile that flashed away when he suddenly found himself wrapped in a tight embrace.

"Thank you," she whispered against his hair. "I love it."

"Father helped and Amenas and Henna too. And… I think her name was Lithiel." The arms around him squeezed tighter as his father looked on with a mild expression of surprise. Imrahil motioned him to silence with a finger and Adrahil smiled and returned the gesture as a sign of promise.


	10. Chapter 9 - Alone in the Dark

**A/N: I had forgotten how emotionally draining this chapter was to write. It doesn't really seem like much rereading it, but I remember at the time how horrible I felt when I was done. Funny how emotionally invested you get in characters when writing. More than one character of mine has made me tear up when I horrifically killed them off.**

* * *

By bed time all mirth had faded. It was less than an hour by the time Adrahil found himself with a quivering ball under his blankets. He lifted up the covers to peer under at a pair of enormous eyes.

"Sea Star… You were doing so well today."

Imrahil refused to answer and curled up tighter when his father reached for him. There was a futile protest as he was picked out of bed. It only grew in volume as he was carried down the hall way to his own room.

"No no! Not in there! Please don't!"

The protests were weathered and ignored and Imrahil found himself deposited in his bed. Quietly he cried as he was tucked in again and he wailed when Adrahil left the room.

He was leaving him. He was leaving him in the room alone with the corpses under his bed and in his closet. Imrahil ripped the covers off and ran for the door. The bodies belonged to the sea and it would come to take them back. It would swamp the house, fill his lungs and break his bones.

His father was hardly half way down the hall when Imrahil caught up to him and flung himself so hard at his father's knees that the man had to press his hand against the wall to keep from falling.

"Imrahil!" His father turned to scowl at him, but his anger faded into simple exasperation when he caught sight of Imrahil.

"They're going to kill me! I don't want to drown!" he wailed.

All the way back to his room his father tried to hush him, but Imrahil continued to sniffle and give protest the whole way back.

"I don't want to die," he whimpered pathetically as his father set him back into bed.

Adrahil sat beside him and brushed his hair back from his face. "Imrahil, you are safe in your room. You're not going to die. I've check the whole room from top to bottom _twice_ now and there are no sharks or bodies."

"I can smell them…"

Dubiousness lit Adrahil's face before he leant over and kissed Imrahil on the forehead. "Sleep please."

But when Adrahil stood up, Imrahil wrapped his arms tight about his waist. As he rose up Imrahil was pulled after him till the child was half dangling off the bed. There was a frustrated growl above him that rumbled his father's stomach. "Imrahil… please."

The boy shook his head rapidly and dug his fingers in so tight it must have been painful, but he refused to care; not if his father was going to leave him here to be eaten or drowned.

"You're going to hurt your arm. Stop it Imrahil." Frustration marred his voice as his father feebly tried to pry him off. The dig of the man's fingers hurt and the force of his grip made his arm ache terribly, bolts of pain radiating from the break. At last Adrahil seemed to come to the realization that the only way to get Imrahil off without hurting him was to relent.

He sat back down on the bed heavy with exhaustion. His face was stormy as he turned around, but while Imrahil loosened his grip he refused to let go. Without a word Adrahil lifted the covers and lay down once he felt Imrahil's arm pull out from behind him. Wisely, Imrahil stayed silent as his father pulled him to his side.

He twitched and shook at each shadowy flicker, but in time he fell into sleep.

There was no brooking with his father's temper that morning. Adrahil set him to dress in stormy silence and Imrahil did not see him again until breakfast. When their meal was done Ivriniel watched with a raised brow as their father grabbed Imrahil's arm and pulled him from the room with nothing but subdued silence from the child.

Once out on the balcony, Adrahil scooped Imrahil up and started down the steps. Immediately Imrahil's breathing catapulted, but he willed himself to stay still. He knew he was on treacherous ground with his father. Adrahil had always been of a good temper, but if one pushed enough even Adrahil lost his usual easy going patience.

Out on the beach and over the sea wall things started to change though. His father seemed to relax as he himself became as taut as a bow string. He whimpered and fidgeted as his father struck up an old sea farers tune. The humming was all but lost to Imrahil as the water crept over his father's feet.

He was utterly unprepared for Adrahil to sit.

Cold licked at Imrahil's skin and his eyes fluttered in puzzlement for half a moment as he tried to register the fact that his father had just sat them down in the ocean. Then the alarm washed in.

He let out a strangled shout and tried to scramble up onto Adrahil's shoulders. His father gave a grunt and nearly tipped backwards when he found himself with an eight year old coiled about his shoulders like a high strung cat. Any attempt at escape was thwarted by the hand locked around his ankle.

In desperation Imrahil pried at his father's fingers, but they were tight as a band of iron and he growled in frustration and fear. How could his father betray him like this?

Over time, Adrahil managed to work Imrahil down off his shoulders, though he winced as tiny nails scratched at his skin leaving red welts on his neck as Imrahil tried to cling onto him. There was a wordless terrified scream as water washed over Imrahil's legs up to his knees, but no matter how he cried, wailed, or shrieked, his father held him there.

He pressed his face tight into the crook of his father's neck and the man wrapped him close to his chest as he shook. One hand stroked up and down his back as the water came and went around them and each time Imrahil would cry out.

When he tried to escape for a second time he found large fingers darting along his sides and around his neck and under his arms. Even in his fear it was impossible not to choke out half a laugh around his sobs. He wiggled and squirmed and was soon in a full blown giggle fit as his father smiled and worked at all of his ticklish spots. In minutes Imrahil was all but a boneless heap in his lap gasping big breaths.

Then low, his father began a tune. The first thing Imrahil noticed was that there were words to this one and the next was that he did not recognize them. At first, he could have cared less, but as time progressed and the tune wound to an end and then began again, Imrahil found himself trying to restrain his panicked breathing to strain to hear the words. After a few moments he realized it was elvish.

The meaning of the words were lost on him, but still they had their intended affect and in time while he never truly relaxed the fight had left him. He resigned himself to a horrible fate of death by sharks.

Under him his father bounced his knee, bumping him up and down in time to the song. He was just expecting a shark to lunge up the beach when the song wound to a close for a third and final time. In the silence of its wake the fear started to come back tenfold.

Death would come another day it seemed though. His father rose up and Imrahil bolted for dry land before his father had a chance to pick him up.

Adrahil smiled and shook his head ruefully as the boy did not stop until he was up on the balcony, glaring down at the water.

"A long hard road indeed."

Come evening, Imrahil found himself dangling upside down from his father's shoulders. Several maids they passed smiled and greeted the Lord Prince only to start in alarm as they saw the child hanging down his back as he passed. Imrahil waved exuberantly at them. Rarely was his father so indulgent with him outside of the privacy of their rooms. It was undignified he said and that as Princes and Princesses of Dol Amroth and heirs to the founders of the Northern and Southern kingdoms of Men they had to set an example and always be of proper respect and manners.

Personally Imrahil thought it was all silly non-sense, but he behaved as a good child and simply sought indulgences where he could. He supposed this was at least one good thing to being hurt. Father was always far more lax about proper manners and decorum when he was ill or injured.

"You, Little Mouse, need a bath."

Imrahil's nose wrinkled at the idea. His father had all but thrown him into the sea at the mercy of the sharks. He was plenty clean.

It was an exaggeration, but in his young imaginative mind it had as good as happened.

"I am clean."

"You smell like a fish market."

"I do not."

Down the hall his father took him into his room and Imrahil tipped his head quizzically. He had his own wash room with its own big copper tub so why his father had taken him to his instead was beyond him.

Up against the bed Adrahil waited until Imrahil had scooted up onto the covers before he let go of his ankles. In his father's arms Imrahil was carried into his bath chamber. It was an enormous thing for a washroom. A large leaded glass window was dark along one wall and the gleam of the moon spilled along the floor. There were two wash basins beneath a large mirror. One was more feminine in design and was dusty, untouched for years.

In the center though was a large gleaming copper tub, far bigger than Imrahil's own. It was half full of steaming water.

Near the tub he was set by a cushioned chair and he held obediently still as his father helped him out of his night shirt and then his sleep leggings and braies. The clothes were folded neatly and set on the chair.

"Bathing you with the cast will be interesting, but we'll see if we can't keep it as dry as we can," Adrahil said as he rolled up his sleeves.

After days of nothing but cold sea water, the warmth of the bath felt wonderful. The ache of his muscles, taut and sore from days on end of anxiety and terror began to relax in the heat and his body was filled with a pulsing ache. It felt good though to finally ease up though holding his arm up along the edge of the tub felt a bit awkward. He leant with eyes half lidded into his father's hand that supported him as the other trickled cupfuls of water into his hair.

Before he knew it, his father was edging him forward in the tub. He complied, although a bit bemused.

His father lent in close with a smile, their noses brushing. "Do you trust me, Sea Star?"

It rarely boded well when his father asked that, certainly the last time his father had asked had been a terrifying moment, but he did trust him and could not bring himself to be dishonest even to get out of what was coming. He did not want to hurt his father's feelings. Tentatively, he nodded, droplets of water slipping along his chin.

"Make sure to keep your arm up," his father warned as he pressed a hand against Imrahil's chest.

Slowly his father eased him back into the water, only pausing when Imrahil finally began to struggle to get up.

"Shh, trust me. You'll be alright."

Imrahil stared at him with wide eyes, but did not resist again as Adrahil lay him back in the water. It was awkward, holding his arm above him and after a moment it began to tremble, but whether that was from tired muscles or fear was unsure.

He lay in the water trembling for an immeasurable time. Twice he tried to sit up, but his father gently pressed him back again. At last as the water started to cool, Adrahil sat him up and quickly scrubbed at his skin and lathered his hair. Cupfuls of water doused his scalp and he leaned back to let it wash the soap from his hair. The feel of fingers pulling through the wavy locks eased his earlier anxiety.

The towel his father bundled him in was overly large and his father laughed as he was nearly lost in the fluffy mass.

His father lifted up a corner of the towel that had flopped over his face. "There you are Little Mouse. For a moment I thought one of my towels had sprouted legs of its own and was trying to walk off on me."

Imrahil shook his head. "You're silly. Towels can't walk."

"So they can't." Adrahil lifted him up in one arm and grabbed his night clothes with the other.

All their earlier mirth faded in light of bedtime however. Mindful of his son's arm, Adrahil helped the child wiggle back into his tunic.

"Please…"

"Not this time Imrahil."

The boy poured on the big watery eyes and the quivering lip, but Adrahil simply tugged his son's braises and loose leggings back on. A hand on his back edged Imrahil towards his bed and the boy climbed in reluctantly.

"I don't want to be alone…"

"Imrahil, you're not alone. You're in a house full of people."

Stubbornly the boy shook his head. Outside the wind howled making the windows rattle. They drew Imrahil's nervous attention as he strained to hear the roar of the sea. When he turned back again, Adrahil was at the door.

Loudly Imrahil gasped as he sat up and knelt at the edge of his bed reaching out towards his father as he sent his covers tumbling to the floor. "No! Don't go!"

Adrahil smiled sadly at him and waved. "Good night Sea Star. Please, go to sleep." And then he was gone. The door shut with a firm click.

Imrahil stared at it for a second and then flopped on his belly to quickly scrabble at his sheets and drag them back into the bed. From a multitude of blankets and pillows Imrahil made himself a nest. The blankets coiled around him and were lined with pillows as if a wall against the evils that he knew lurked in his room. He clutched tightly at the raggedy stuffed horse his mother had sewn for him when she had been expecting.

With a pat, he reassured the horse. "It's okay Braigsûl. Sharks don't like feathers. We're safe here." He only wished he believed it, but he hoped Braigsûl could not tell. Valiantly he tried to still his shivers.

Outside there was an eerie hollow sound as the wind whipped past. The windows shivered and rattled and out in the garden by the kitchens an owl dove upon a rabbit that screamed. To Imrahil it sounded like death had found him. His breathing stilled as it felt as though his heart skipped. Then the rough sea winds slammed against the palace and his doors banged and rattled hard against their frames.

That was it. Imrahil was out of his bed in a flash, poor Braigsûl being pulled along by his tail. It took several tries to rip the door open, palm sweaty, but he shoved it open, grabbed up his horse again and thudded down the disturbingly dark hallway to his father's room.

"Papa!" He had taken down the hall so swiftly he was unable to stop himself fully and Imrahil thumped into the door.

He stood panting before it, glancing nervously up and down the hall. When there was no answer he hopped and thudded his fist against the thick wood. "Papa!" Except for the howl of the wind, silence loomed dark and ominous.

"It's okay Braigsûl… It's okay." His breath hiccupped as he clutched the horse to his chest as best he could with his cast. "It's okay," he whimpered.

Over and over in his head he repeated his father's words. There were no monsters, no sharks, no dead, but then he could hear that horrible scream from outside and the smell filled his nose and the splash of the water seemed to be carried on the wind. A drip of water from his damp hair trickled down his back.

"_Papa!_" He hit again at the door and grabbed the knob, but it would not turn. He sobbed out a breath and rattled it again and again, but it was locked. Down to the floor he slid and thudded his head back against the door. "Papa, please," he sobbed. Braigsûl was clutched tight to his chest, but the palamino brought no comfort. It was just another thing for the sea to take from him.

The dark of the house was deep and he wished he had taken one of the lamps from his room, but he could not carry both Braigsûl and one of the shells of lamp oil. Tears trailed down his cheeks and soaked into the plush horse as he buried his face into it and sobbed again and again for his father, but the door remained closed.

Something caught his ear and he stilled. There was a creak of wood. Immediately his head popped up and he stared down the blackened hall in a mixture of fear and hope. Someone was coming perhaps? He stood slowly and held his breath. Then louder it came and the shadows shifted.

Danger, his mind screamed and he renewed his thumps on his father's door. "_PAPA!_" he shrieked. There was no answer and he shot a panicked look towards the shadows as the whole palace seemed to moan. Old rafters and beams in the palace shifted with the heavy winds, but to the young imagination it was so much more.

In a last desperate attempt Imrahil took off down the hall first to Ivriniel's room. He tried the knob without even calling, but it too was locked. "Rin! Rini!" He slapped his hand on the panels, but the sound was lost with the growing fury of the weather outside.

"Ivriniel!" He thumped his fist and there was nothing.

There was no time. The dead were coming and he was vulnerable alone. He squeaked when he realized Braigsûl had been left alone by his father's room. One step and then two he started towards it when the windows rattled and he scooted back.

Next he bolted to Finduilas' room, but again her door was locked. "Fin!" he wailed, her broken legs completely forgotten in his fear.

Silence was all that greeted him and he thudded his head against the door and sobbed a gulping breath.

They had all left him. Of all his family not one had stayed to protect him against the beasts that lurked in the shadows and against the water that crept up in the night. The cloth of his night shirt stuck to him with water from his bath and it reminded him all too much of hours in the dark spent hopelessly drifting in the middle of the sea.

Well if no one would help him at least he would not abandon Braigsûl. At a sprint he took off down the hall and snatched up the stuffed horse, but when he spun to go back to his room the shadows seemed thicker now. Frightened he sank back against his father's door.

"Papa?" he uttered once softly.

There was nothing. He was alone.

* * *

**A/N: =( Muffin. Sorry! It gets better… Eventually. I swear, Imrahil.**


	11. Chapter 10 - Castle for a Hermit

**A/N: Saw the new Hobbit movie last night. I have extremely mixed feelings on it. As a movie, it was good… But as a rendition of a book it was bad. I understand the need for changes but I often found myself questioning why certain changes needed to be made as what actually happened in the book would have been just as riveting. *Shrug* Ah well. All in all it was still good. Suppose that's what happens when I get so hyped.**

* * *

Come morning, Adrahil found a small bundle curled up at his door. On his knees he brushed Imrahil's hair back and sadly gazed at the sleeping tear streaked face of his child. As careful as he was able, he picked the child up. A sad smile curved his lips at the sight of the horse still clutched tight in his son's grip as Adrahil brought him to his room. Not once did Imrahil stir, shadows under his eyes attested to how little he had slept. Adrahil had not slept much either.

Nest undone, Adrahil tucked his son away in his bed and pressed a kiss to the child's forehead, holding for a moment before he slipped away.

At breakfast he was greeted to Ivriniel's thunderous visage. She stood from her seat as was polite when the Lord Prince entered, but when Adrahil greeted her, she merely gave a curt nod.

Half way through the meal she slid her plate away. "Why?"

Adrahil blinked and looked up at her, dazed. "I'm sorry?"

"Why do we have to lock him out? It is cruel." The restraint she used to keep from shouting could be seen in the tightening cords of her throat.

In his heart Adrahil could not fault her for her anger, he too was unhappy with what needed to be done, but he was convinced it was needed. "It is necessary. I do not like it any more than you and it pains me to hear Imrahil's distress, but the only way he can conquer his fears is to face them."

Ivriniel expression remained unimpressed. "There has to be another way to do it besides _that_. Surely he can get over it on his own in time."

"Childhood fears can last a life time. There is never any guarantee that they will fade on their own. Imrahil is a Prince and my heir. If he is ever to survive as the Lord of Dol Amroth when I have passed he must come to terms with his fear. He cannot fear the sea when we rely on it and live on its shores. And death? Imrahil will be a Knight and a Captain when he grows. How can he fear death when he must learn to see it daily? No… As much as I long to shield my son from pain he must learn courage and face his fears or he will grow to failure and Dol Amroth will weaken." His voice was weary. He hated to speak such words, but his heart knew their truth. Even if not for an entire realm relying on his son to lead them in his elder years, how could he count himself a good father if he coddled the child and fed his weaknesses till they consumed and crippled him?

Neither could finish their food and both left the table quiet and subdued. While Adrahil had the opportunity to work in the morning for the first time since Imrahil went missing and Finduilas was brought home broken, he found himself instead at his son's bedside. He had made out the voices of his daughters in the next room and was glad to know Ivriniel was keeping his youngest daughter company in these hard times.

He eased himself onto Imrahil's bed and watched the child. Memories of the night were still fresh in his mind. Long had he lain last night listening to his child. He had not been deaf to his son's cries, nor unmoved. Each tearful sob and plead had clenched his heart and again and again he cursed himself for lying still and immobile. Each thud of that tiny fist had tore at him more until he felt his willpower waning dangerously.

Tears not unlike his son's had stung his eyes and he dug his palms into them. He could not. He had to resist and let the child learn for himself that the night was harmless. If he went to him now, how long would he continue to do so? Would he go with his son on his patrols and share his tent? Would he stay in his room or allow him into his bed night after night until the day Imrahil wed? No. He had to cure his son of his fears now while his mind was still young and easily adapted to change.

Still, he felt ill listening to those tiny hiccupped breaths until they faded into uneasy sleep. Long after Imrahil had collapsed in exhaustion Adrahil lay and stared at the ceiling hating himself. That sickness lingered in his stomach even now taking in the tired continence of the boy; the pale drawn skin, the dark bruising color under his eyes, lips parted in breath, his nose too stuffy from crying to breathe through.

He glanced at the glass doors of the balcony. It was beginning to draw into the late morning. If he wanted to get any work done or have any hope of Imrahil sleep tonight, he had to get the boy up now.

The covers were pulled back and Imrahil made sleepy protest as he was lifted from the bed into his father's arms. A small fist rubbed fitfully at his eyes as he tried to say hello and all that came out was a hoarse and tired squeak. There was a grunt as Imrahil settled for not talking and much to Adrahil's surprise, the entire trip through the palace and out to the stairs brought no protest or mention of the previous night.

As they moved down the steps to the sea Imrahil let his head lie on his father's shoulder limply. His body thrummed with a sense of exhausted resignation.

It seemed today that Imrahil was too tired to do much of anything. Even as Adrahil sat them in the sea Imrahil simply whimpered and pressed against him, but did not try to escape. Tunes were hummed and sides were tickled and eventually as noon drew near, Adrahil lifted his son from the water with a sense of success.

"Papa?" A tired voice made him pause as a hand tugged gently on a lock of his hair.

"Yes?"

"Could we make a castle? Please?"

Adrahil paused to eye the sky. It was getting close to noon and he knew there was a stack of letters for relief on his desk as well as much needed supply requests to be sent to Gondor, but he knew too that his son had been extraordinarily patient with him this morning. After last night, how could he bring himself to say no?

It had seemed that he had taken too long to decide as there was one more soft tug. "Please?" that quiet voice whispered.

"I think we have time for one, yes."

He was rewarded as his son's face lit up. Realization came to Adrahil that this was a positive sign. In order to properly build the castle it meant that Imrahil was willingly allowing himself to be near the water to get to wet sand.

Ruefully he mused that the laundresses were probably loathing him now, coming in day after day with their clothes coated in sand and soaked.

With careful hands Imrahil built up walls and turrets, his tongue poking out in concentration, and when he hovered unsure at his father's side about leaving him to go find shells, Adrahil gave him a soft nudge. "Go on. I will be right here."

"You'll guard it from the sharks?"

Adrahil laughed and nodded. Imrahil scampered off to quickly get as many shells as he could manage with one hand, tucking a few into his pockets. Quite suddenly he yelped and flung one shell. The suddenness of the reaction made Adrahil start in alarm. Curious, Imrahil crept after the shell again and scooped it up before trotting back.

"Look!" The shell as held out from Adrahil to examine and he found a pair of stalky eyes blinking at him in fear. "I found a hermit crab!"

"So you did. Be careful though so you do not hurt him. Perhaps you should put him back by the water?"

Imrahil shook his head and set the crab down on the middle of the castle. "I thought that he could have the castle."

Various shells were laid out for the pair of them to carefully place along the castle. "Well that is very kind of you to give it to him."

A beaming smile was given and the two finished their work as the crab watched them cautiously from his shell. At last, Imrahil pressed the final shell into the sand with a flourish and looked pleased with himself at his handy work.

"Done!" He leaned in close to the crab and even its eyes withdrew back into the shell. "I hope you like it." There was no answer from the crab.

"Alright." Adrahil stood and stretched, wincing as he back popped. "I think we are filthy enough. Henna is not going to like us for all the sand we are going to track in. Come on, let us get inside and get you changed."

"Yes Papa."

Adrahil took his hand and led him back to the steps, smiling as Imrahil turned to say a farewell to the hermit crab before they were up the stairs and out of sight.

That evening, same as the night before, Imrahil was led to his father's bathing chamber. With his father's help, he shimmied out of his clothes and eyed the copper tub with a sense of trepidation.

"Do we have to do it again?"

Adrahil paused in folding his clothes before he set them aside and crouched in front of Imrahil. "I think it would be best, yes."

"But why?" Imrahil's brows furrowed as he was lead passively to the tub and lifted up.

His father rolled up his sleeves as he settled down into the water. "I think it will help you overcome your fear of the water. Would you not like to be able to go down to the beach again and play with your sisters without fear?"

"I guess," Imrahil replied sullenly. The water swished back and forth under the wave of his hand. The water caught the candle light and reflected it along sharp ever changing edges that shimmered against the tub. He smiled watching as the tub shone ever moving copper lights along his skin.

His father indulged him for a while, pouring warm water over his scalp while he pushed around a small wooden ship carved from drift wood. It bobbed and floated in the water weathering each of his self created waves no matter their strength.

"If only real ships were always so trusty," Adrahil smiled at it.

"Mine will be," Imrahil said proudly as his father started to ease him back in the water. He tried his best to keep himself brave, but he felt a quiver run through himself. "When I get older I have the best ship in the… the…"

His brow furrowed as he floundered for the word.

"Fleet? Adrahil suggested.

"Yes! The fleet." He nodded exuberantly and then flinched when the water splashed up onto his face.

Staying afloat was not so very easy. Rigid, he had to strain to keep his head from sinking back too far and whenever the water would tickle at his ears Imrahil struggled to sit up. Time and time again Adrahil simply eased him back down against his panic.

The sound of the water as it filled his ears was consuming. He shuddered, barely making out the splash of the water it caused. The hum and rasp of it sounded as the coming of the waves, but he dared not open his mouth to cry out for fear that the water would swamp his mouth and fill his lungs. Barely did he register his father's hand under his head as precaution.

Then when the first drips hit his face he was up in a flash, sloshing water that spilt over the sides.

"Easy, easy Imrahil. It is just water droplets."

Imrahil looked at him as if he were mad. _Just_ water droplets? It was a death trap. He was far more resistant this time when Adrahil pressed him back, his good hand clutching tight at his father's wrist.

"Please, I don't want to," he whined.

The hand against his chest pressed still and he fussed. "If you can do this for me Sea Star I promise to read to you tonight, hm?"

It was hardly a consolation when he was submitting himself to possible death by drowning, but Imrahil submitted. Over head he held his broken arm that trembled more and more with each submersion, growing weary. With every moment his father paused to trickle water on his face he reacted a little less, until at last he shot up and refused to be pressed back down again, story or no. Imrahil scooted himself all the way back against the far end of the tub and Adrahil relented.

"Alright, I will stop if you wish, but you will need to come here so that I may wash all the sand from your hair."

He was eyed suspiciously before Imrahil edged himself just within range. When his father proved true to his word and simply began rubbing soaps into his hair, he relaxed and slid closer. The press of fingers felt good and by the time he was lifted out and bundled, he was half asleep.

After the previous night's terror Imrahil was completely worn. Under his guidance, Adrahil picked a book from his son's shelves as promised.

Even though he knew it was perhaps a foolish thing, Imrahil found himself hoping against hope the entire time that his father would not get up. He leaned heavily into his father's side, dozing as he looked half lidded at ink drawings that sometimes spanned whole pages or simply graced the top at the start of a new chapter. Sleepy fingers traced lines of foam horses that galloped in the waves and large elegant swan shaped ships that seemed almost to fly, lifted up into the air by great waves.

Before he knew it, his father has pressed a kiss to his head and slipped the book away as he curled sleepily under covers. It was not until he heard the words 'good night' that it seemed to register to him what was happening.

The instant the door clicked, Imrahil was ramrod straight in his bed. Silver eyes flicked over the room as they wanted for things to creep from the shadows. Nothing came, for now.

For a long time he waited in the dark and trembled. His covers had become a nest again and Braigsûl was on scout duty tonight. He had performed admirably in the line of duty last night, Imrahil had decided, and his lack of fear meant that he was the perfect choice to watch for sharks and dead men. Not that Imrahil would ever admit that any of that was due to his own fear to look.

In time the Prince fell asleep, though he could not recall it. Time seemed to flow seamlessly and one blink went into the next as if he had never dreamt at all so when his bed bumped he gave not thought that it was simply his mind playing tricks. Curled in a ball, he stilled. The sheets under him felt rough and hard. He pushed up and frowned down at the wood in bemusement. The world seemed to dip and there was a splash. He gasped and ducked his head down beneath the wall of his blankets.

"Braigsûl?"

Again the bed jerked and poor Braigsûl tumbled off the blanket barricade. Imrahil lurched forward to grab the palomino, but he was too slow and with a soft thump he hit the floor.

"Braigsûl!" Fear for his horse gave him a surge of bravery enough to peer over the edge of the bed. Braigsûl lay forlornly on the floor and as Imrahil watched he sank into the water or perhaps it was the shadows beneath the bed? Water and shadow alike seemed to consume him, coiling around the horse and pulling it under.

The smell hit him then and Imrahil gagged. Back from the edge he scrambled and curled in the very center of the nest. The water was far below, he was safe. Only… As the bed kept jerking and shaking he thought he could hear the crack of wood. There was a sudden drop was one leg gave out and then another. Imrahil whimpered and curled up tighter, laying on his side and hoping his father would come. As the water began to dampen his face though he knew it was too late. Already he was sinking.

He watched in fear as a tooth lined maw opened and loomed over him. As it snapped shut he screamed.

Bolt upright in his bed, Imrahil looked around with wild eyes. The sheets beneath him were soft and giving again, the bed was still and there was no tell tale splash of water.

Braigsûl was gone.

Frantic Imrahil scrambled to his hands and knees and peered over the side. There he found his horse companion half under the bed.

"Braigsûl?" he whispered. There was no answer. Nervously, he chewed his bottom lip. An unseen current in the air flickered his shell lamps wildly then and the shadows beneath the bed seemed to swarm over the horse. It was enough to set him off.

With a terrified keen he lunged off the bed rather impressively and skidded into the door before he could tear it open. Down the hall to his father's room some small part of him was unsurprised when the door was locked and his father did not answer to his frightened cries. Another part of him was hurt. Father had heard him all those others nights, indeed he had heard Imrahil in his own room all the way down the hall before, so how could he not hear him now?

A little voice in his head whispered that his father was tired of him and that perhaps he wanted the sharks to get Imrahil.

The door thudded with one last blow from Imrahil's fist, this time done in anger and spite more than fear.

But the shadows were coiling and waiting. He could see them flickering and flashing in his bedroom as poor poor Braigsûl was taken. Frantic he glanced up and down the hall. He took two steps towards Ivriniel's room and recalled last night and the repeat of father's door. To try her room would waste time, time for the shadows to get him.

The harsh gasps of his breath filled the hall loudly as desperation grew. Then he spotted it, his chance at safety, and he bolted for it.


	12. Chapter 11 - Of Amroth and Nimrodel

**A/N: It rather snuck up on me, but we're almost done! There is one more chapter after this one and then alas, it is over. I've only heard back from two readers, but I hope at least that everyone else has enjoyed this. =) My next story will not be LOTR related, but the one after that shall be, though it will be following another rather pointy eared family.**

There was an urgent series of knocks at the door. Adrahil stiffly rose out of bed and quickly threw on a robe to have some sort of appearance of decency. What he found at the door was better than he had hoped and yet not what he had expected.

"Excuse me my Lord. I'm sorry to wake you but um…" One of the newer laundress maids fidgeted and fussed with her apron before she gestured down the hall. Adrahil followed her motion, but saw nothing.

"It's not trouble but… What am I supposed to be seeing might I ask?"

"Oh," she flushed, "Sorry I just was not sure how… Um, well I went into the linen's this morning to change the Prince's bedding only… I found the Prince in the linen closet instead."

"The linen closet?" Adrahil found himself caught between a laugh and a sigh of pity. The maid followed after him hurriedly when he went to see for himself. On the floor curled up on a pile of old dust rags, Imrahil was fast asleep, one fist curled tightly in the cloths.

"Thank you for telling me. Give us a moment."

The maid nodded quickly and departed in search of a distraction. Slowly Adrahil stroked Imrahil's hair and rubbed the nape of his neck until sleepy silver eyes fluttered open. Startled the boy jerked up quickly and before Adrahil could warn him, smacked his head on the first shelf. Pained the child hissed and whimpered, a tear escaping as he rubbed his sore head.

"Ai… I should have warned you or pulled you out first… I am sorry." The words were accompanied by fingers that rubbed at the lump forming. Imrahil shied from his touch and frowned at him though. Adrahil could see the mule digging its heels in.

"What's wrong?"

No response came from Imrahil but a continual glare. No matter how many times Adrahil tried to coax an answer from him, the boy would not budge. Eventually it was given up as a lost cause. The man sighed and shook his head. "Alright, have it your way then. Care to explain why you're in the linen closet then?"

The scowl got darker, but Adrahil could see the moisture gleam in his son's eyes. He sighed, that was it then. Imrahil was taking being locked out personally.

"Imrahil… I am not locking my door because I do not like you. I love you, honestly, but you need to learn to face your fears… There are no sharks, dead men, or shadow monsters." The child looked unconvinced, but he did not shy this time when Adrahil pulled him into his lap and embraced the boy.

"It might seem real now, but in time as you learn to face these things you will see they are not. There is nothing for you to be afraid of in your room. I certainly would never leave you alone anywhere if I thought there was danger. That is why I do not let you go outside alone."

"Because of sharks?"

Adrahil chuckled, "Well yes, sometimes there are sharks, but more than sharks Imrahil… Bad people, riptides, undertow, wild animals. Things of that nature. What if I should let you go outside alone and you slipped on the sea wall or the cliff and you fell and broke something? If you hurt your leg you might not be able to get home to tell someone you were hurt. But in your room? There is nothing to fear there."

As he went on the child's temper began to tame until at last as they sat there Imrahil began to play with the sea shell necklace that the Lord Prince never seemed without. It was a sign that his son was in the mood to forgive.

"Come on then, breakfast and if you are good for me today in the water we can make little ships and sail them in the tide pools."

"Really!?" There was an excited bounce from the body in his arms and he laughed.

"Yes, really."

After breakfast Imrahil willingly went out on his own with no need to be carried, though he clasped Adrahil's hand tightly within his own as he carefully crept down the stairs cut into the cliff side. Encouraged by this, Adrahil stepped into the water without Imrahil in his arms and turned to coax the boy in.

"You do not need to go far, come on. If you can do this I'll help you make a ship."

"Promise?" Imrahil kept his untrusting eyes on the water.

"I promise."

It took several tries before Imrahil stayed in the water. The first few he'd barely get his toes wet before a wave would roll in and he would scramble away, but slowly, he went in further and Adrahil grasped his hand coaxing him into the rolling water until it lapped just over his knees. If Imrahil pressed against him and shivered, Adrahil said no word of it.

At last, Imrahil was free to go and he quickly scampered to the beach and as promised, Adrahil fetched a bundle of twine and some scraps of cloth and together they scoured the beach for drift wood and craft into boats.

In one of the larger tide pools they raced them, though it was slow going with little breeze or wind. Adrahil tried to sneakily blow his along and laughed when his son swatted at him.

"Hey! Cheating!"

"You dare accuse the Lord of Dol Amorth of being a cheater?" Adrahil affected his best stern tone. It did not last long as it burst into a laugh when Imrahil poked him in the side with a bit of wood.

"I do!"

Adrahil shook his head and tried to frown again, though the furrow of his brow was weakened by the smile that fought hard to win his expression. "Then I challenge you to a duel for my honor!"

With sticks of drift wood the two fought one another and if periodically Adrahil would stop them to walk over and correct Imrahil's foot work or his grip and posture, the boy did not complain… much. At last Adrahil found himself tackled to the sand and Imrahil sat on his chest and thrust his 'sword' into the air triumphant.

"Down with the Cheater Lord!"

"Hey now! You will give people ideas."

Imrahil wrinkled his nose and leaned over to peer into his father's face. "It's alright Papa. Everyone knows the only cheaters around here are pirates."

Mirth ebbed from Adrahil's face at the mention of the Corsairs. "Perhaps. Come, let us not ruin the morning talking about them. I believe you have a lesson to be getting to soon."

A sign of disappointment escaped Imrahil as he rolled off his father's chest, "Yes sir." A sandy hand ruffled already sandy hair and a pair of hands tried to bat him away.

"Hey!"

Adrahil laughed and took off for the stairs, his son only steps behind.

Time crept past and ever so slowly Adrahil began to wear away at Imrahil's terror. Each night he would take Imrahil again into his bathing chamber to lay the boy back in the water. As slowly Imrahil would react less and less to the water that was trickled onto his face Adrahil began to encourage the boy to submerge his head.

Imrahil looked at him as if he was insane, but Adrahil assured him he was safe.

"I promise. I will be right here and I will make sure nothing happens. You can hold it under as little or as long as you like. Alright?"

Lips pursed in thought, but eventually, Imrahil agreed. The first time he was under for scant more than half a second before he was up, but Adrahil did not complain or scold, merely soothed the child and continued to encourage him. Five more times Imrahil allowed it before he was too panicky to try again.

"I don't want to! Please!" he cried as he grabbed at Adrahil's arm.

His father reassured him calmly. "It is fine. You did well. We do not need to do any more tonight." The child relaxed back into the water with a sigh of relief.

Again they repeated it in the following days and as the length of time grew every night, Adrahil complimented him on his courage.

"You're very brave my Sea Star," he said as he tucked Imrahil into bed, his hair still damp.

Imrahil frowned at the blankets and plucked at the edge. "No I'm not. I'm a coward." He jumped startled as a pair of hands settled on either side of his face. Adrahil leaned in, all but pressing their foreheads together.

"No, you are not. You want to know a little secret?"

Slowly Imrahil nodded.

"There are adults right now who were out in that wave just like you and just like you, they too have trouble sleeping now and trouble going to the water."

The thought that adults might suffer the same fear never seemed to have occurred to the boy and he stared wide eyed back at his father. "Really?"

"Yes, truly. You are not alone in your fear Imrahil, so do not think yourself so strange. It is very much normal for people to be left frightful and traumatized by their bad experiences. These things take time, but I am confident you will overcome it."

His son looked less sure, but still, he seemed to sink in on himself a less and when Adrahil left the room, Imrahil no longer begged for him to stay.

That too, had begun to improve, much to Adrahil's thankfulness. At first it seemed that Imrahil would continue to come to his room every night, even if the boy had given up bothering to knock and each night the whimpers and sniffles that came from the other side of the door made Adrahil's heart ache. Twice more the boy was found stuck in the linen closet much to the pity of the maids. Even Henna when she found him the third and last time could not resist soothing the child and giving him a cuddle, however brief.

When Imrahil was able to stay under the water for nearly half a minute without panic, he found himself with a new shell etched with the image of a swan shaped ship on it. He nearly cut off the circulation to Adrahil's legs with the force of his hug.

"Thank you!"

The man laughed and patted his head, "You are very much welcome. Go now, to bed. I will be there in a moment."

When he came in later, dressed in his own sleep clothes, he was pleased to see Imrahil in bed and ready on his own, his new shell already up to join the rest of his collection.

A book was thrust up at him and large silver eyes pleaded. "One story? Pleeeease?"

"Alright, just one," Adrahil agreed. He eyed the story his son had chosen out with mild amusement. "The story of Amroth and Nimrodel? Truly?"

"Yes, please. Our home is named after him, isn't it?"

"It is, but it is a sad story and one I think perhaps may not be so good for you to hear when we are still working on your fear of the sea."

The mention of Imrahil's fear only made him more stubborn. Nothing left for it, Adrahil began the sad tale of Amroth and Nimrodel's love and their parting. As he reached Amroth's demise, he hesitated.

"Papa?"

"I am sorry. The storm was so terrible it that the ships of the men of Gondor were ripped from the shore and broken asunder upon the coast. Even the Sindar and Silvan's own ship had been torn from its moorings. In the morning, when the storm had dissipated, Amorth awoke to find that they had been taken far from the shore. He cried his beloved's name and threw himself into the sea in a desperate bid to return and find her. The other elves tried to pull him back, throwing ropes into the water, but Amroth would not take them no matter how they pleaded. In his attempt to reach the shore once more, Amroth was overcome by the waves and lost to the sea, drowned. Of Nimrodel, no one has heard from her since."

He trailed off and closed the book. Curious, he watched his son for the boy's reaction. To his surprise, Imrahil did not seem afraid, only sad.

"So… They never found each other?"

"To my knowledge no, however the Eldar do not usually suffer death permanently if I recall and there is a good chance that Amroth is merely awaiting Nimrodel now in the Undying Lands. Perhaps she has found her way there now as well and they are together." It was horribly optimistic and really, Adrahil knew very little about how death and the Undying Lands worked, barring their own ancestors foolish attempt to try and take them for their own, but he supposed he could not be faulted for having some hope. He stroked a hand through his son's hair. After the death of his own wife it was hard not to have hope for such things.

"Sleep time now I should think." He pressed a kiss to his son's head and when he left the room there was no complaint. He shut the door with a smile. It had been a long road, but end was finally in sight.


	13. Chapter 12 - Free at Last

**A/N: And here it is! The final chapter. Hope you all have enjoyed it. ;) Figured when better to post the last chapter than on my birthday.**

Come morning, Adrahil was greeted with a sheer mass of paper work as well as a regiment of workers and a mountain of supplies from Gondor. It was nearly two months from the time he had sent his requests for aid, but Adrahil tried not to feel too bitter about the Steward's slow response. Ecthelion was old and Adrahil knew well the amount of trouble the Steward had on his plate. As it was Adrahil was eyeing recent reports of increased Corsair activity nervously. They were all busy people these days.

At breakfast Adrahil was surprised when he had told Imrahil they would have to forgo their usual morning trip to the sea and the boy actually seemed to be disappointed.

"Do you have to?" he glanced up swiftly from his food with a plaintive look.

"I am afraid so. Supplies and workers from Gondor have finally arrived and I need to set out getting things distributed," he explained.

Imrahil's nose wrinkled, but he said nothing else. The rest of breakfast passed quietly and even Ivriniel seemed somewhat at a loss about the boy's disappointment.

It was soon far from his mind as Adrahil found himself writing up drafts of how many workers to send to which districts and where to rout supplies and who needed what the most and first and how much. Tiredly he rubbed at his eyes with ink stained fingers. Nights of little sleep working with Imrahil had left him drained even as they had begun to wane.

Desperate for a respite, he pushed away from his desk. His work could wait five minutes for him to move around and wake himself up. The hiss of the sea called to him and he padded to the balcony doors and threw them wide, breathing deep of the salty air. Some found the smell of the sea disgusting, but to him it smelt of freedom and the untamed.

A high laugh made his eyes snap open. Two large steps took him to the rail and he watched with wide eyes the scene before him.

Ivriniel walked down the beach in her bare feet. A short light fluttering skirt whipped about her legs. The fabric came just beneath her knees. Gondorians further inland found such a style indecent, but the women of the sea found long ago that long skirts soaked in the water only hampered them and weighed them down. Too much clothing would drown you and make work all the more laborious and tiring.

His eyes though were not on his daughter, but his son. Imrahil walked in the water of his own volition. Nearly to his knees the water lapped at his legs and he barely showed any distress. Only once had he hurried out from the water, but slowly Imrahil worked his way back in. He took great steps that threw his feet high, flinging sparkling droplets of water into the air, and then plunged them into the water with a loud thunk and a splash.

Work was forgotten as Adrahil leaned on the balcony and watched with a smile as his children walked and ran along the beach.

It was two and a half months after his return home that Imrahil's cast was at last removed.

Feniras frowned and tutted at the boy. "Really Prince Imrahil… It would be best to do this in the healing quarter."

Rapidly Imrahil shook his head. Finduilas' room perhaps was less convenient for the woman, but it felt safe in her room. To be honest, he also did not trust Feniras to try and trick him into a full exam. He hated the woman poking, prodding, and pressing in places she should not. He wrapped his good arm over his stomach in discomfort at the memory of the last time she went feeling around his belly and pressing at his ribs.

When it became clear that she was not going to win the battle, Feniras huffed and hefted her work basket up onto a stool. She dug through it and plucked a pair of crude scissors that looked rather sharp and menacing.

"Now hold still. The plaster is brittle, but it will still be hard to cut through. I do not wish to cut you."

The scissors were shaken as a reminder before she went to work. Imrahil watched with anxious trepidation as Feniras cut away at the cast. Periodically she would stop and brush off flaking plaster onto the towel draped across his lap and stretch her fingers.

"Almost there," she assured.

There was a pleasing lack of pain even as his arm was jarred and Imrahil found himself smiling despite the fear of that sharp metal point brushing against his skin. At last, the scissors snipped through the last bit of the plaster.

Feniras sat back with a smile and set the scissors aside in her basket. "There! All done. Now let me just peel this off."

The plaster flecked away and crackled dryly as Feniras peeled away the strips of cloth. The revealed arm was sickly looking and drew a sound of alarm from Imrahil. The skin was deathly pale and the arm was bone thin compared to its counterpart. He glanced up at Feniras with a look of panic.

"What happened to my arm!?"

She took his fear in stride and much to his bemusement and irritation, let out a laugh. She patted him on the knee.

"There now love, it's alright. You broke it! That's what happened," she teased with a wink. Her joke did little to ease his fear and she took pity on him.

"Oh don't worry. It's the way with all broken bones. The skin under the plaster is not exposed to light and so it grows pale. A few weeks in the sun and it'll regain its former healthy color. The reason it is so skinny is because you were unable to use it all this time. That too will fade in time with use. It will be weak for a while and you'll find it hard to use, but that will all come back to you. Don't go straining it now! It's weak and you can still re-break it if you are not careful!" She energetically shook her finger in his face till Imrahil's eyes went cross and he nodded.

She seemed pleased with that. "Good!"

Imrahil looked at his newly revealed arm disheartened. "But… What about the lump? My arm is crooked still." His fingers hovered hesitantly over the break.

There was another pat to his knee. "Do not worry yourself about that either. You are still young and growing. With time as you grow your arm will straighten out and it will look brand new. That will take more time than regaining your color or strength, but just be patient. You are lucky! If you were a full grown man you would be stuck with that crook in your arm forever!"

The thought left Imrahil looking suitably alarmed as Feniras shooed him off the bed. "Now be a good lad and shake this out over the balcony."

Towel in hand Imrahil opened the doors outside and smiled. It felt good to have use of both his arms once more. He flexed his elbow and fingers experimentally. His grip felt weak and tender, but it burned with that wonderful sensation of stretching a long dormant muscle. The skin about his eyes crinkled in delight.

The towel snapped in the air and plaster dust plumed. Imrahil wrinkled his nose and waved it from his face. When he returned to the room Feniras was helping Finduilas to settle in order to have her own casts removed and probably changed out.

"I really do not think it is appropriate for you to be in here," Feniras tutted again and Imrahil cocked his head. He glanced at Finduilas at a loss for why it was such an issue for him to be in the room. His sister though flushed and tugged at her nightgown that was rolled up to her knees, the edge of her braies' showing.

"Why not? She's seen me in my under garments all the time."

"Imrahil!" Feniras snapped as Finduilas sank down in her pillows. Imrahil still looked befuddled. He supposed he had come to understand that ladies seemed to be insistent on keeping covered up even on the most unbearably hot days, but he was too young to fully understand why.

At last Finduilas muttered with her face half hidden behind a pillow, "It's fine… He can stay."

"I suppose. It will be good for your brother to see your recovery."

On the balls of his feet, Imrahil gave a bounce. "It's alright. If anyone asks I will not tell them you are anything but a proper Lady, Fin."

A hand thwacked at his shoulder as Finduilas muttered at him to hush. Feniras looked about ready to throw a fit. "Young Prince!" The might of her scowl had Imrahil trying to lean behind Finduilas' mound of pillows.

As the pillow before Finduilas' face slipped down to be hugged against her chest, the nervous bite of her lip drew Imrahil to her side. The towel was left abandoned by the basket as Imrahil took Finduilas' hand and gave her an encouraging beam. She returned it weaker, but seemed heartened and squeezed his hand back.

It was a long a laborious process for Feniras to remove both casts. She stopped far more times to stretch the cramps from her hands. Unlike the relative painlessness of the process for Imrahil, it seemed far more uncomfortable for Finduilas who flinched several times and tightened her grip on Imrahil's fingers. He never complained and simply waited it out until she was able to relax again.

At last, both casts were cut through and Imrahil could hear his sister suck in her breath as she held it in anticipation and fear.

"My Prince, would you kindly help me with these?" Feniras glanced up as she began to work at the casts to loosen them. Tense fingers uncurled from Imrahil's hand and he scampered forward to help. Together with Feniras he worked the plaster of the casts until it was crumpled enough to peel away the bandages and slip them out from under Finduilas' legs. Her breath left her in a worried exhale.

Her legs were battered looking. Just like his arm they were terribly thin and the skin appeared pale, but it was hard to tell in some places under the layering of bruises and remainders of scabs. Imrahil gave a gasp at the sight of them, worrying his lip with his teeth. They looked utterly awful compared to the state of his own arm.

Against her pillows Finduilas strained to sit up further despite the pain from her hip. Her expression was twisted in upset. "My legs…"

"Hush hush, don't you fret now Princess. Lay down now before your hurt your hip again." Feniras gave Imrahil a nudge and he went to Finduilas' side, pulling her back down. She frowned at him, but lost the will to do so when Feniras began to run her hands over her legs. Despite her hisses or fussing, Feniras did not relent in her examination, pressing in some places and simply going over them lightly at others. Various sounds emanated from her throat that neither child could interpret and they glanced at once another nervously.

At long last, Feniras sat back and both children held their breath. She looked at them and laughed at the nervous anticipation on their faces. Both frowned at her mirth, but subconsciously relaxed to hear it.

"So… How bad it is?" Finduilas asked, her voice small.

"Both of your legs are still fragile and you cannot get out of bed yet, but they are recovering well and I expect that in a few more weeks you will be able to walk again if you are careful."

A whoosh of breath left Finduilas and she slumped back against her pillows where she had slowly inched up in her tension. A gasped sob left her lips and she laughed excitedly as Imrahil gave her a big hug, a grin spread from ear to ear on his face.

Feniras smiled at the pair, but continued her mix of lecture and explanation. "Now, you must still be careful of course my Princess, but I can put on a lighter cast now that will let your skin breath better. That should help some with the coloring and the remaining scabs. If you are careful about it, get some help moving, and keep a pillow between your legs to cushion them I think it will be alright for you to lay on your good side. Just do not continue to lay that way if it causes you any pain! If it does tell someone immediately and move onto your back, understood?"

Finduilas nodded rapidly with eagerness.

"I would say in about a month more you should be able to start practicing walking once more."

A month seemed like a terribly long time to Imrahil, but Finduilas looked nothing but excited. She crowed a laugh that was rather un-lady like, but no one dared to diminish her happiness. "One more month and I can finally leave this horrid bed!" She looked just about ready to bounce with excitement.

"I'll let your legs rest out from the cast for a little bit longer before I mix some new plaster for the next ones. Prince Imrahil, why don't you go tell your father the good news while I examine Princess Finduilas' hip, hm?"

He glanced once at Finduilas for confirmation and she pushed at is back. "Go on."

He nodded and cast her one last smile before he scampered from the room. For the first time in weeks when he ran down the hall calling for his father, it was in joy rather than fear.

"Papa!" Imrahil all but burst into his father's study. Adrahil looked up in a mixture of alarm, concern, and frustration.

"What is it Imrahil? Is there something the matter?"

The boy shook his head making his dark locks tumble across his shoulder. "No. Feniras wanted me to come tell you about Fin!"

That had all of Adrahil's attention. His expression drew serious as he turned to face his son. "She did? How are your sister's legs?"

Imrahil all but bounced over as he announced, "It's good news! They're okay! Feniras says that she should be able to start trying to walk again in a month and she can lay on her side now!"

Large hands swooped him up rather unexpectedly and Imrahil gave a small yelp as his father let out a booming laugh. "That is good news indeed!" He gave the boy a tight squeeze before he set him down on the ground again.

"I'm going to check in on your sister. Ivriniel is out on the shore, perhaps you would like to see her and tell her the good news too?"

Without hesitation, Imrahil nodded. "Okay!" In a flash he was out the door and down the hall, hopping down the stairs making one of the serving staff watch him in a mixture of amusement and exasperation. Adrahil watched him with a smile, pleased to see his son so far from where had had been over two months ago.

In Finduilas' room, he received confirmation of his son's good news as Feniras began to work new airier plaster for the cast. He listened patiently as Feniras explained the upcoming road of his daughter's recovery and how best to help her to see it as swiftly and safely as possible.

A peel of childish laughter caught his ear through the balcony doors and he tipped his head in curiosity as he listened. Adrahil strode to the doors and opened them, stepping out onto the balcony oblivious of the healers curious stare. His daughter's eyes squinted in pleasure at the sound and scent of the sea that drifted into her room on a breeze.

On the balcony Adrahil watched as Imrahil and his oldest sister embraced, Ivriniel's expression lit up at the good news. Their voices were too soft to carry their words, but they spoke for a moment before Imrahil turned and ran toward the water. Adrahil held his breath.

Without fear Imrahil splashed into the water, the light rolling water sweeping up past his waist before he turned back and began to hunt in the shadows for something periodically between romping runs and high kicks that made water fly.

At last his expression lit up into something mischievous and he scooped something out of the water. Adrahil realized almost immediately what it was and let out a sigh that did nothing to belly his smile.

Impishly Imrahil bolted after his sister with object in hand. At his excited shout Ivriniel turned to find herself face to belly with a horseshoe crab and she screamed. The girl turn and ran angrily shouting at her brother to leave her alone and get it away, but he did no such thing, laughing as he chased her through the surf with the poor innocent creature.

On the balcony Adrahil burst out laughing and ruefully shook his head at the sight of them. The breeze tickled his face and brushed long hair that had escaped from its clasp against his cheek. He tilted his head toward the sunlight and the wind and sighed softly.

"Yes… Everything will be alright now I think."

The hopeful words were carried away on the breeze to mingle with children's laughter.

**A/N: Phew. *Dusts of hands* Done! Been many years since I've posted a complete story. Hopefully I will be back soon with another, though this time around it will be for Final Fantasy 4. Will be slow going though as I seem to be losing vision in my left eye. Joy of joys.**


End file.
